Bartlett—[As they reach the steps of the house—intent on the work below—makes a megaphone of his hands and shouts in stentorian tones.] Look lively there, Horne!
Sue—[Protestingly.] Pa!
Bartlett—[Wheels about. When he meets his daughter’s eyes he controls his angry impatience and speaks gently.] What d’ye want, Sue?
Sue—[Pointing to her mother who is being assisted through the door—her voice trembling.] You mustn’t shout. She’s very sick.
Bartlett—[Dully, as if he didn’t understand.] Sick?
Sue—[Turning to the door.] Wait. I’ll be right back. [She enters the house. As soon as she is gone all of Bartlett’s excitement returns. He paces up and down with nervous impatience. Nat comes out of the house.]
Nat—[In a tone of anxiety.] Ma seems bad. We can’t do anything. I’m going for the doctor. [As his father doesn’t seem to hear him—tapping him on the shoulder, his voice breaking.] Why did you make her do it, Pa? It was too much for her strength. Wouldn’t anyone else or any other name have done just as well?
Bartlett—[Impatiently.] No. It had to be.
Nat—When she spoke the words—and fell back in a faint—I thought she was dead.
Bartlett—[Vaguely.] Weakness. She’ll be all right again after a rest. [He draws Nat’s attention to the schooner.] Smart lines on that schooner, boy. She’ll sail hell bent in a breeze. I knowed what I was about when I bought her.