(A brief silence. Enter ASHER, right.)
ASHER (surveying the group). You here, Augusta? (He goes up to TIMOTHY and presses his hand.) I wanted to see you, Timothy,—I understand how you feel. We both gave our sons in this war. You've lost yours, and I expect to lose mine.
AUGUSTA. Asher!
TIMOTHY. Don't say that, Mr. Pindar
ASHER. Why not? What right have I to believe, after what has happened in my shops today, that he'll come back?
TIMOTHY. God forbid that he should be lost, too! There's trouble enough—sorrow enough—
ASHER. Sorrow enough! But if a man has one friend left, Timothy, it's something.
TIMOTHY (surprised). Sure, I hope it's a friend I am, sir,—a friend this thirty years.
ASHER. We're both old fashioned, Timothy,—we can't help that.
TIMOTHY. I'm old fashioned enough to want to be working. And now that the strike's on, whatever will I do? Well, Bert is after giving his life for human liberty,—the only thing a great-hearted country like America would be fighting for. There's some comfort in that! I think of him as a little boy, like when he'd be carrying me dinner pail to the shops at noon, runnin' and leppin' and callin' out to me, and he only that high!