The woman came back to her old formula: “I know that we’re only poor country people.”
“Listen to me, nurse,” said the young man. “Only a little while ago you were afraid that we would send you away. You were satisfied with the wages which my mother had fixed. In addition to those wages we had promised you a good sum when you returned to your home. Now you tell us that you want to go away. You see? All at once. There must be some reason; let us understand it. There must certainly be a reason. Has anybody done anything to you?”
“No, sir,” said the woman, dropping her eyes.
“Well, then?”
“I have thought it over.”
George burst out, “Don’t go on repeating always the same thing—‘I have thought it over!’ That’s not telling us anything.” Controlling himself, he added, gently, “Come, tell me why you want to go away?”
There was a silence. “Well?” he demanded.
“I tell you, I have thought—”
George exclaimed in despair, “It’s as if one were talking to a block of wood!”
His mother took up the conversation again. “You must realize, you have not the right to go away.”