MRS. MAYO. (a bit reproachfully) Why didn’t you wheel Mrs. Atkins back tonight, Andy? You usually do when she and Ruth come over.
ANDREW. (avoiding her eyes) I thought maybe Robert wanted to tonight. He offered to go right away when they were leaving.
MRS. MAYO. He only wanted to be polite.
ANDREW. (gets to his feet) Well, he’ll be right back, I guess. (He turns to his father) Guess I’ll go take a look at the black cow, Pa—see if she’s ailing any.
MAYO. Yes—better had, son. (ANDREW goes into the kitchen on the right).
SCOTT. (as he goes out—in a low tone) There’s the boy that would make a good, strong sea-farin’ man—if he’d a mind to.
MAYO. (sharply) Don’t you put no such fool notions in Andy’s head, Dick—or you ’n’ me’s goin’ to fall out. (Then he smiles) You couldn’t tempt him, no ways. Andy’s a Mayo bred in the bone, and he’s a born farmer, and a damn good one, too. He’ll live and die right here on this farm, like I expect to. (With proud confidence) And he’ll make this one of the slickest, best-payin’ farms in the state, too, afore he gits through!
SCOTT. Seems to me it’s a pretty slick place right now.
MAYO. (shaking his head) It’s too small. We need more land to make it amount to much, and we ain’t got the capital to buy it. (ANDREW enters from the kitchen. His hat is on, and he carries a lighted lantern in his hand. He goes to the door in the rear leading out).
ANDREW. (opens the door and pauses) Anything else you can think of to be done, Pa?