Mrs. M. (sola). What a wretched place this is! If I was obliged to live in such a way at home, I shouldn’t think I could bear it. The family here haven’t even decent accommodations for keeping boarders.
(Enter Florence, L., in state of great excitement.)
Flor. O mother, two men are coming, and they are bringing father in. I’m afraid he’s killed.
Mrs. M. (starting up). What do you mean, child? (Enter men, L., bearing Mr. M. Mrs. M. clasps her hands in anxious suspense; goes up to her husband.) What is the matter, Henry? Has there been an accident? (The men place Mr. M. on sofa and exit L.)
Mr. M. It isn’t quite as bad as it seems. I was a little tired and thought I’d ride up from the village to-night, instead of walking. But the stage broke down, and I was thrown out. I was a good deal bruised, but I believe there are no bones broken. Dr. Bryant examined me, and said I would be all right in a few days.
Mrs. M. Well, as soon as you are able to leave, I’m going back to the city. I can’t stay here any longer.
Mr. M. (smiling). You don’t mean that you are willing to go back to the city, and endure all its discomforts again.
Mrs. M. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are as many annoyances in the country as in the city.
Mr. M. But you forget that the children cannot have country fare after our return.
Mrs. M. No, I do not. I find that the country fare we sought is all sent to the city, and we must return there in order to enjoy it. After two weeks’ trial of living in the country, I am thoroughly tired of it, and I think a long time will elapse before I again wish to try the experiment of Boarding on a Farm.