GRANDMOTHER: Mr Fejevary's Delia brought them home with her. They've gone down to dam the creek, I guess. This young man's been waiting to see you, Silas.
SMITH: Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you.
SILAS: Well, why not? (he is tying the gay balloons to his gun, then as he talks, hangs his hat in the corner closet) We've been having a little talk ourselves. Mother, Nat Rice was there. I've not seen Nat Rice since the day we had to leave him on the road with his torn leg—him cursing like a pirate. I wanted to bring him home, but he had to go back to Chicago. His wife's dead, mother.
GRANDMOTHER: Well, I guess she's not sorry.
SILAS: Why, mother.
GRANDMOTHER: 'Why, mother.' Nat Rice is a mean, stingy, complaining man—his leg notwithstanding. Where'd you leave the folks?
SILAS: Oh—scattered around. Everybody visitin' with anybody that'll visit with them. Wish you could have gone.
GRANDMOTHER: I've heard it all. (to FEJEVARY) Your folks well?
FEJEVARY: All well, Mrs Morton. And my boy Felix is home. He'll stop in here to see you by and by.
SILAS: Oh, he's a fine-looking boy, mother. And think of what he knows! (cordially including the young man) Mr Fejevary's son has been to Harvard College.