ELLA: I'll bring your mail right out.
[She goes into the house and returns with a packet of letters.]
GIBSON: Thanks, Ella!
ELLA: Everything is there that's come since you sent the telegram not to forward any more.
GIBSON: It's pleasant to find the house and everything just as I left it.
ELLA: My, Mr. Gibson, we pretty near thought you wasn't never coming back. Those June roses in that bed round yonder lasted pretty near up into August this year, Mr. Gibson. For that matter it's such mild weather even yet some say we won't have any fall till Thanksgiving.
GIBSON: Yes, it's extraordinary.
ELLA: Shall I leave the tray?
GIBSON: No; you can take it. [She moves to do so.] Wait a minute. Here's a letter from John Riley, up at the factory. Don't I remember his son Tom coming here to see you quite a good deal?
ELLA: Yes, sir; Tom's one of the factory truckmen like his father. He still comes to see me quite a good deal, sir. There isn't anything about that in the letter, is there, sir? [She knows there isn't.]