Bartlett—[Roughly.] But what’s that to do with silly dreams? It’s in the line o’ trade I meant.
Nat—But why be so mysterious about trade? There’s something you’re hiding. You can’t say no because I feel it.
Bartlett—[Insinuatingly—with a crafty glance at his son.] Supposin’ in one of them Eastern trading ports I’d run across a bit o’ business with a chance for a fortune in it for a man that wasn’t afeerd of the law, and could keep his mouth shut?
Nat—[Disappointed.] You mean illegal trading?
Bartlett—I mean what I mean, Nat—and I’d be a fool to tell an overgrown boy, or two women—or any man in the world, for the matter o’ that—what I do mean.
Nat—[Turning toward the door in the rear—disgustedly.] If it’s only that, I don’t want to hear it. [He walks toward the door—stops and turns again to his father.] No, I don’t believe it. That’s not like you. You’re not telling the truth, Pa.
Bartlett—[Rising to his feet—with a savage sternness in which there is a wild note of entreaty.] I’ve listened to your fool’s talk enough. Get up to the house where ye belong! I’ll stand no more o’ your meddling in business o’ mine. I’ve been patient with ye, but there’s an end to that! Take heed o’ what I’m sayin’, if ye know what’s good for ye! I’d rather see ye dead tonight than sail on that schooner at dawn. I’d kill ye with my own hands first! [With a sort of sombre pride.] I’ll stand alone in this business and finish it out alone if I go to hell for it. Ye hear me?
Nat—[Alarmed by this outburst—submissively.] Yes, Pa.
Bartlett—Then see that ye heed. [After a pause—as Nat lingers.] They’ll be waitin’ for ye at the house.
Nat—All right. I’ll go. [He turns to the doorway on the left, but before he gets to it, the door is pushed open and Mrs. Bartlett enters. Nat stops, startled.] Ma!