Thwaite. I never went back. I never knew my mother. She died when I was born. Kirstin, she never knew her mother neither.
Merton. That's a bad loss.
Thwaite [smokes reflectively]. Mebbe, mebbe. But she's no need of a mother. I've learned her what she'd need to know, and though I says it, she's been brought up by an honest man to earn an honest living in honest ways. And that's enough for anyone.
Merton. It's a great deal. But is it enough for her? Doesn't she want any more?
Thwaite. I don't know—but if she did, want 'd be her master. [Passes his hand along the railing]. There's that fence going again. I believe the wood's rotting. Kirstin! [Kirstin comes out of the house with a strap in her hand]. Look at this place in the fence—it's rotting. That's bad.
Kirstin [looking at it]. Yes, I know. There's some more going the same way, further up.
Thwaite. Well, you'd better go round and see where the places are; it'll have to be looked to.
Kirstin. Yes, father; I'll see to it.
[Thwaite goes on looking at the fence and passing his hand along it. Kirstin gives the strap to Merton.]
Kirstin. Here's a strap you left in the house, Mr Merton.