Sue: For a while.
Tice: You ain’t communicative, widder, are you? He ain’t trying to raise some money?
Sue (alarmed): Who told you that?
Tice (with satisfaction): Reckon I don’t need telling. It ain’t fitting for a boy to be out of school because his mother’s stubborn ’bout a piece of wuthless land. Suppose something’s gone and happened to Dick?
Sue: Please!
Tice: Widder, with some money handy there’d be no call for Dick to be away. You think of that for a while. Then you do some thinking on this paper—
Sound—Crinkle of paper
Sue: What is that?
Tice: A paper, all legal, to sell for one thousand dollars. You put your name down here—
Sue: No. I won’t.