Clarence
Ethel, you have been the best friend I ever had outside of mother and father and they’re both gone. The reason I went away to school was the thought that I might some day be worthy and capable of making a home for you equal to the best found anywhere. I realize that the majority of farmers buy conveniences for themselves without realizing the conveniences their wives need in the house, so they have to go on in the same way their grandmothers did. Ethel, you remember that last letter you wrote me, three years ago, I believe?
Ethel
Yes, and you never answered it.
Clarence
No. When you went away to the city you were young and I did not dare ask you to wait for me. Besides I thought it would be useless for you were thinking that when the time came you would marry a city fellow who could offer you a home without the drudgery some women have on the farm. In that last letter, you were telling me about a certain rich man. Well, I knew your youthful dream had come true. I didn’t want to stand in your way. I knew you were old enough to know what you wanted, so I didn’t write. Ethel, I almost gave up then, and I don’t know but what I would had it not been for my roommate, noble old chap. He got me started right again. Ethel, I hope you will be happy in the city.
Rises and crosses stage.
Ethel
I did write about a certain young man, but—