Bartlett—[In a tone almost of fear.] Wait. I’m goin’ with ye. [Turning to his wife—with a certain rough tenderness.] Ye oughtn’t to walk down the hill here, Sarah. The doctor told ye to rest in the house and save your strength.
Mrs. B.—I want to speak to you alone, Isaiah. You never come to home no more, hardly, so I had to come to ye. [Accusingly.] You know it ain’t walkin’ is sappin’ my strength, Isaiah.
Bartlett—[Very uneasily.] I’ve got to work on the schooner, Sarah. That’s why I’ve no time to home.
Mrs. B.—She’ll be sailin’ soon?
Bartlett—[Suddenly turning on her defiantly.] Tomorrow at dawn!
Mrs. B.—[With her eyes fired accusingly on his.] And you be goin’ with her?
Bartlett—[In the same defiant tone.] Yes, I be! Who else’d captain her?
Mrs. B.—On a craft without a name.
Bartlett—She’ll have that name.
Mrs. B.—No.