ROBERT. Hello, Andy.
ANDREW. (going over to MARY) And who’s this young lady I find you all alone with, eh? Who’s this pretty young lady? (He tickles the laughing, squirming MARY, then lifts her up at arm’s length over his head) Upsy—daisy! (He sets her down on the ground again) And there you are! (He walks over and sits down on the boulder beside ROBERT who moves to one side to make room for him) Ruth told me I’d probably find you up top-side here; but I’d have guessed it, anyway. (He digs his brother in the ribs affectionately) Still up to your old tricks, you old beggar! I can remember how you used to come up here to mope and dream in the old days.
ROBERT. (with a smile) I come up here now because it’s the coolest place on the farm. I’ve given up dreaming.
ANDREW. (grinning) I don’t believe it. You can’t have changed that much. (After a pause—with boyish enthusiasm) Say, it sure brings back old times to be up here with you having a chin all by our lonesomes again. I feel great being back home.
ROBERT. It’s great for us to have you back.
ANDREW. (after a pause—meaningly) I’ve been looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don’t seem to be——
ROBERT. (his face flushing—interrupts his brother shortly) Never mind the damn farm! Let’s talk about something interesting. This is the first chance I’ve had to have a word with you alone. Tell me about your trip.
ANDREW. Why, I thought I told you everything in my letters.
ROBERT. (smiling) Your letters were—sketchy, to say the least.
ANDREW. Oh, I know I’m no author. You needn’t be afraid of hurting my feelings. I’d rather go through a typhoon again than write a letter.