Mrs. Atkins—Let’s go, Kate. I’m boilin’ in here. [Mrs. Mayo wheels her out and off left. Ruth comes back and sits down in her chair.]
Ruth—[Mechanically.] Come and let me take off your shoes and stockings, Mary, that’s a good girl. You’ve got to take your nap now. [The child continues to play as if she hadn’t heard, absorbed in her doll. An eager expression comes over Ruth’s tired face. She glances toward the door furtively—then gets up and goes to the desk. Her movements indicate a guilty fear of discovery. She takes a letter from a pigeon hole and retreats swiftly to her chair with it. She opens the envelope and reads the letter with great interest, a flush of excitement coming to her cheeks. Robert walks up the path and opens the screen door quietly and comes into the room. He, too, has aged. His shoulders are stooped as if under too great a burden. His eyes are dull and lifeless, his face burned by the sun and unshaven for days. Streaks of sweat have smudged the layer of dust on his cheeks. His lips drawn down at the corners, give him a hopeless, resigned expression. The three years have accentuated the weakness of his mouth and chin. He is dressed in overalls, laced boots, and a flannel shirt open at the neck.]
Robert—[Throwing his hat over on the sofa—with a great sigh of exhaustion.] Phew! The sun’s hot today! [Ruth is startled. At first she makes an instinctive motion as if to hide the letter in her bosom. She immediately thinks better of this and sits with the
