ROBERT. (reproachfully) Ma’s been getting dinner especially for you, Andy.
ANDREW. (flushing—shame-facedly) Hell! And I was forgetting! Of course I’ll stay for dinner if I missed every damned ship in the world. (He turns to the CAPTAIN—briskly) Come on, Uncle. Walk down with me to the house and you can tell me more about this berth on the way. I’ve got to pack before dinner. (He and the CAPTAIN start down to the left. ANDREW calls back over his shoulder) You’re coming soon, aren’t you, Rob?
ROBERT. Yes. I’ll be right down. (ANDREW and the CAPTAIN leave. RUTH puts MARY on the ground and hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake as if she were sobbing. ROBERT stares at her with a grim, somber expression. MARY walks backward toward ROBERT, her wondering eyes fixed on her mother).
MARY. (her voice vaguely frightened, taking her father’s hand) Dada, Mama’s cryin’, Dada.
ROBERT. (bending down and stroking her hair—in a voice he endeavors to keep from being harsh) No, she isn’t, little girl. The sun hurts her eyes, that’s all. Aren’t you beginning to feel hungry, Mary?
MARY. (decidedly) Yes, Dada.
ROBERT. (meaningly) It must be your dinner time now.
RUTH. (in a muffled voice) I’m coming, Mary. (She wipes her eyes quickly and, without looking at ROBERT, comes and takes MARY’S hand—in a dead voice) Come on and I’ll get your dinner for you. (She walks out left, her eyes fixed on the ground, the skipping MARY tugging at her hand. ROBERT waits a moment for them to get ahead and then slowly follows as