John: O, who wants to be great? Great men have to work, and to sit up nights and worry about things. I'd rather be a plough-boy than a great man any time.
Thomas: So would I! Nothing to worry about, just follow the horse and keep the plough straight.
Helen: Well, there's one thing of which both of you may be pretty sure.
Both: What's that?
Helen: You are in a fair way to get what you want. You will both be plough-boys until you are too old to hold the plough, and then you can go to the poorhouse, where the "great men" whom you despise will make laws to take care of you.
Thomas: That's just it; now you are coming around to John's statement. We will not have to worry; others will do that, you see.
Helen (impatiently): Boys, why don't you brace up and study as you ought to? What's the use of all this foolish talk? You know you don't mean a word of it! (Goes up stage.)
John: We do mean it, too, don't we, Tom?
Thomas: You're the one that talks foolishness. You said some boys would be "glad of our chance to go to school."
Helen (coming down quickly): Yes, and it's true, too. I heard my father telling last night about a boy living out in the woods beyond Gentryville who'd give almost anything for your chance. He's never been to school but a few months in his whole life, and—