ANNA—[Shaking her head.] No! [CHRIS' face lights up with relief. ANNA continues slowly, a trace of sadness in her voice.] If I'd met him four years ago—or even two years ago—I'd have jumped at the chance, I tell you that straight. And I would now—only he's such a simple guy—a big kid—and I ain't got the heart to fool him. [She breaks off suddenly.] But don't never say again he ain't good enough for me. It's me ain't good enough for him.
CHRIS—[Snorts scornfully.] Py yiminy, you go crazy, Ay tank!
ANNA—[With a mournful laugh.] Well, I been thinking I was myself the last few days. [She goes and takes a shawl from a hook near the door and throws it over her shoulders.] Guess I'll take a walk down to the end of the dock for a minute and see what's doing. I love to watch the ships passing. Mat'll be along before long, I guess. Tell him where I am, will you?
CHRIS—[Despondently.] All right, Ay tal him. [ANNA goes out the doorway on rear. CHRIS follows her out and stands on the deck outside for a moment looking after her. Then he comes back inside and shuts the door. He stands looking out of the window—mutters—"Dirty die davil, you." Then he goes to the table, sets the cloth straight mechanically, picks up the newspaper ANNA has let fall to the floor and sits down in the rocking-chair. He stares at the paper for a while, then puts it on table, holds his head in his hands and sighs drearily. The noise of a man's heavy footsteps comes from the deck outside and there is a loud knock on the door. CHRIS starts, makes a move as if to get up and go to the door, then thinks better of it and sits still. The knock is repeated—then as no answer comes, the door is flung open and MAT BURKE appears. CHRIS scowls at the intruder and his hand instinctively goes back to the sheath knife on his hip. BURKE is dressed up—wears a cheap blue suit, a striped cotton shirt with a black tie, and black shoes newly shined. His face is beaming with good humor.]
BURKE—[As he sees CHRIS—in a jovial tone of mockery.] Well, God bless who's here! [He bends down and squeezes his huge form through the narrow doorway.] And how is the world treating you this afternoon, Anna's father?
CHRIS—[Sullenly.] Pooty goot—if it ain't for some fallars. BURKE—[With a grin.] Meaning me, do you? [He laughs.] Well, if you ain't the funny old crank of a man! [Then soberly.] Where's herself? [CHRIS sits dumb, scowling, his eyes averted. BURKE is irritated by this silence.] Where's Anna, I'm after asking you?
CHRIS—[Hesitating—then grouchily.] She go down end of dock.
BURKE—I'll be going down to her, then. But first I'm thinking I'll take this chance when we're alone to have a word with you. [He sits down opposite CHRIS at the table and leans over toward him.] And that word is soon said. I'm marrying your Anna before this day is out, and you might as well make up your mind to it whether you like it or no.
CHRIS—[Glaring at him with hatred and forcing a scornful laugh.] Ho-ho! Dat's easy for say!
BURKE—You mean I won't? [Scornfully.] Is it the like of yourself will stop me, are you thinking?