But that's not what troubles me. Why can't mother leave me alone for just a few minutes till I get some time to myself at the fiddle. I niver touch it but I'm taken away and sent off somewhere.
Ellen.
Seating herself at chair beside Robbie John.
Don't be cross with her Robbie, dear. She's anxious about the cattle.
Robbie John.
But, Ellen, look here. Any time I can get to have just a tune on that fiddle, someone's sure to take me away from it. Father sends me out to mend gaps that were mended, or cut turf that was cut, or fodder horses that were foddered. And when he's away and I might have some chance, mother does the same. Here I've been workin' for the past week, day in and day out, and the very first chance I get, I must run after the cattle or somethin'.
Despondently,
Nobody has any feelin' for me here at all.
Grandfather.
Now, now; Robbie. It's all for your own good, son, she does it.