CHRIS--Ay'm sorry, Anna. [He sees her bag and gives a start] You pack your bag, Anna? You vas going--?

ANNA--[Forcibly.] Yes, I was going right back to what you think.

CHRIS--Anna!

ANNA--I went ash.o.r.e to get a train for New York. I'd been waiting and waiting 'till I was sick of it. Then I changed my mind and decided not to go to-day. But I'm going first thing to-morrow, so it'll all be the same in the end.

CHRIS--[Raising his head--pleadingly] No, you never do dat, Anna!

ANNA--[With a sneer.] Why not, I'd like to know?

CHRIS--You don't never gat to do--dat vay--no more, Ay tal you. Ay fix dat up all right.

ANNA--[Suspiciously.] Fix what up?

CHRIS--[Not seeming to have heard her question--sadly.] You vas vaiting, you say? You vasn't vaiting for me, Ay bet.

ANNA--[Callously.] You'd win.

CHRIS--For dat Irish fallar?

ANNA--[Defiantly.] Yes--if you want to know! [Then with a forlorn laugh.] If he did come back it'd only because he wanted to beat me up or kill me, I suppose. But even if he did, I'd rather have him come than not show up at all. I wouldn't care what he did.

CHRIS--Ay guess it's true you vas in love with him all right.

ANNA--You guess!

CHRIS--[Turning to her earnestly.] And Ay'm sorry for you like h.e.l.l he don't come, Anna!

ANNA--[Softened.] Seems to me you've changed your tune a lot.

CHRIS--Ay've been tanking, and Ay guess it vas all my fault--all bad tangs dat happen to you. [Pleadingly.] You try for not hate me, Anna.

Ay'm crazy ole fool, dat's all.

ANNA--Who said I hated you?

CHRIS--Ay'm sorry for everytang Ay do wrong for you, Anna. Ay vant for you be happy all rest of your life for make up! It make you happy marry dat Irish fallar, Ay vant it, too.

ANNA--[Dully.]--Well, there ain't no chance. But I'm glad you think different about it, anyway.

CHRIS--[Supplicatingly.] And you tank--maybe--you forgive me sometime?

ANNA--[With a wan smile.] I'll forgive you right now.

CHRIS--[Seizing her hand and kissing it--brokenly.] Anna lilla! Anna lilla!

ANNA--[Touched but a bit embarra.s.sed.] Don't bawl about it. There ain't nothing to forgive, anyway. It ain't your fault, and it ain't mine, and it ain't his neither. We're all poor nuts, and things happen, and we yust get mixed in wrong, that's all.

CHRIS--[Eagerly.] You say right tang, Anna, py golly! It ain't n.o.body's fault! [Shaking his fist.] It's dat ole davil, sea!

ANNA--[With an exasperated laugh.] Gee, won't you ever can that stuff?

[CHRIS relapses into injured silence. After a pause ANNA continues curiously.] You said a minute ago you'd fixed something up--about me.

What was it?

CHRIS--[After a hesitating pause.] Ay'm shipping avay on sea again, Anna.

ANNA--[Astounded.] You're--what?

CHRIS--Ay sign on steamer sail to-morrow. Ay gat my ole yob--bo'sun.

[ANNA stares at him. As he goes on, a bitter smile comes over her face.] Ay tank dat's best tang for you. Ay only bring you bad luck, Ay tank. Ay make your mo'der's life sorry. Ay don't vant make yours dat way, but Ay do yust same. Dat ole davil, sea, she make me Yonah man ain't no good for n.o.body. And Ay tank now it ain't no use fight with sea. No man dat live going to beat her, py yingo!

ANNA--[With a laugh of helpless bitterness.] So that's how you've fixed me, is it?

CHRIS--Yes, Ay tank if dat ole davil gat me back she leave you alone den.

ANNA--[Bitterly.] But, for Gawd's sake, don't you see, you're doing the same thing you've always done? Don't you see--? [But she sees the look of obsessed stubbornness on her father's face and gives it up helplessly.] But what's the use of talking. You ain't right, that's what. I'll never blame you for nothing no more. But how you could figure out that was fixing me--!

CHRIS--Dat ain't all. Ay gat dem fallars in steam-ship office to pay you all money coming to me every month vhile Ay'm avay.

ANNA--[With a hard laugh.] Thanks. But I guess I won't be hard up for no small change.

CHRIS--[Hurt--humbly.] It ain't much, Ay know, but it's plenty for keep you so you never gat go.

ANNA--[Shortly.] Shut up, will you? We'll talk about it later, see?

CHRIS--[After a pause--ingratiatingly.] You like Ay go ash.o.r.e look for dat Irish fallar, Anna?

ANNA--[Angrily.] Not much! Think I want to drag him back?

CHRIS--[After a pause--uncomfortably.] Py golly, dat booze don't go veil. Give me fever, Ay tank, Ay feel hot like h.e.l.l. [He takes off his coat and lets it drop on the floor. There is a loud thud.]

ANNA--[With a start.] What you got in your pocket, for Pete's sake--a ton of lead? [She reaches down, takes the coat and pulls out a revolver--looks from it to him in amazement.] A gun? What were you doing with this?

CHRIS--[Sheepishly.] Ay forgat. Ain't nutting. Ain't loaded, anyvay.

ANNA--[Breaking it open to make sure--then closing it again--looking at him suspiciously.] That ain't telling me why you got it?

CHRIS--[Sheepishly.] Ay'm ole fool. Ay gat it vhen Ay go ash.o.r.e first.

Ay tank den it's all fault of dat Irish fallar.

ANNA--[With a shudder.] Say, you're crazier than I thought. I never dreamt you'd go that far.

CHRIS--[Quickly.] Ay don't. Ay gat better sense right avay. Ay don't never buy bullets even. It ain't his fault, Ay know.

ANNA--[Still suspicious of him.] Well, I'll take care of this for a while, loaded or not. [She puts it in the drawer of table and closes the drawer.]

CHRIS--[Placatingly.] Throw it overboard if you vant. Ay don't care, [Then after a pause.] Py golly, Ay tank Ay go lie down. Ay feel sick.

[ANNA takes a magazine from the table. CHRIS hesitates by her chair.]

Ve talk again before Ay go, yes?