_With pa.s.sion._

Say it, say it! What am I?

MRS. BEELER.

Don't be hurt, Rhoda, but--you have a wild nature. You are like your father. I remember when he used to drive over to see sister Jane, with his keen face and eagle eyes, behind his span of wild colts, I used to tremble for my gentle sister. You are just like him, or you used to be.

_Rhoda breaks away from her aunt, and takes her hat and cloak. Mrs.

Beeler rises with perturbation, and crosses to detain her._

What are you going to do?

RHODA.

I am going away--I _must_ go away.

_Martha enters from the hall._

MRS. BEELER.

_Speaks lower._

Promise me you won't! Promise me!

MARTHA.

To look at that, now! Seein' you on your feet, Mary, gives me a new start every time.

MRS. BEELER.

_To Rhoda._

You promise?

_Rhoda bows her head as in a.s.sent._

MARTHA.

Doctor's in the parlor. Shall I bring him in here?

MRS. BEELER.

No. I think I will rest awhile. He can come to my room.

_She walks unsteadily. The others try to help her, but she motions them back._

No. It's so good to feel that I can walk alone!

MARTHA.

It does beat all!

MRS. BEELER.

I'll just lie down on the couch. I want to go out, before dark, and speak to the people.

_Mr. Beeler enters from the kitchen and crosses to help his wife.

The others give place to him._

Oh Mat, our good days are coming back! I shall be strong and well for you again.

BEELER.

Yes, Mary. There will be nothing to separate us any more.

MRS. BEELER.

_Points at his books._

Not even--them?

_He goes to the alcove, takes the books from the shelf, raises the lid of the window-seat, and throws them in._

_Mrs. Beeler points to the pictures of Darwin and Spencer._

Nor them?

_He unpins the pictures, lays them upon the heap of books, and returns to her._

You don't know how happy that makes me!

_They go out by the hall door, Martha, as she lowers the lid of the window-seat, points derisively at the heap._

MARTHA.

That's a good riddance of bad rubbish!

_She comes to the table and continues packing the basket._

You'd better help me with this basket. Them folks will starve to death, if the neighborhood round don't give 'em a bite to eat.

_Rhoda fetches other articles from the cupboard._

I'd like to know what they think we are made of, with b.u.t.ter at twenty-five cents a pound and flour worth its weight in diamonds!

RHODA.

All the neighbors are helping, and none of them with our cause for thankfulness.