Marsh.
My dear, these pretty little flowers which you’ve picked to make your shack look bright and homelike—they may mean ruin.
Norah.
Eddie!
Marsh.
You must have heard us talk about the weed. We farmers have three enemies to fight—frost, hail, and weed.
Mrs. Sharp.
We was hailed out last year. Lost our crop. We never got a dollar for it. And if we lose it this year too—why, we may just as well quit.
Marsh.
When it gets into your crop you’ve got to report it, and if you don’t one of the neighbours will. And then they send an inspector along, and if he condemns it, why you just have to destroy the crop, and all your year’s work is lost. You’re lucky if you’ve got a bit of money in the bank and can go on till the next crop comes along.