Oh no, just a letter to Mabel.
Mr. Benson
Rising.
Ethel, if you don’t care I’ll take your letters to the box. I’ve simply got to get more fresh air. I’ve begun to feel like a house plant what’s bin sittin’ in the bay window all winter. When the hired man comes, tell him to fix up the fire.
Ethel
All right, father. Be sure you put the letters in a mail box and not in the police telephone box like you did once. (Exit Mr. Benson.) Mother, father makes me think of a bee in a drone’s hive; he’s just dying for something to do and there isn’t a thing around here to do that would satisfy him. He’s just aching to be out among the stock on the farm. I really feel sorry for him, but I guess there isn’t any way to better things; he’s not able to run the farm any longer.
Mrs. Benson
No, he isn’t and I wouldn’t think of movin’ in with Harry and Jennie, even though they wouldn’t object. It breaks up the home spirit so to have two families in one home. I’ve never let on to your pa, but I don’t like the city life half as well as I thought I would, and I really never thought of what a handicap it would be to you.
Ethel
Oh, don’t you care about me. I have a good home here as long as you live and I don’t know of a place where I’m needed as bad as I am right here looking after you and father. I consider it my calling.