Scene: Benson’s home in the city. Room lavishly furnished. Ethel at desk writing, Mr. Benson sitting in easy chair reading, and Mrs. Benson darning socks.
Mrs. Benson
Ethel, who are you writing to?
Ethel
Oh, I was just dropping a line to brother Harry. Thought he would be glad to know how we were getting along in the city by now. You know I promised him I would write often and let him know how you and father took to city life. He said you would never like it here after the novelty of it wore off.
Mrs. Benson
Tell him I would write some, too, only I’m such a poor writer and it hasn’t been long since I did write. You know people like to get letters often, so if you write now, and then me after while, he may like it better. I want to read what you have written when you get through.
Ethel
Sorry, mother, but I can’t let you read this one—at least all of it. You know brother and I always did confide in each other. I’ve often thought how much better we understand each other than most brothers and sisters, and how much more pleasant it is. I always feel sorry for girls who have no brothers and for boys who have no sisters.
Mr. Benson