face, though inclined to roundness, is undeniably pretty, its large eyes of a deep blue set off strikingly by the sun-bronzed complexion. Her small, regular features are marked by a certain strength—an underlying, stubborn fixity of purpose hidden in the frankly-appealing charm of her fresh youthfulness. She wears a simple white dress but no hat.]
Ruth—[Seeing him.] Hello, Rob!
Robert—[Startled.] Hello, Ruth!
Ruth—[Jumps the ditch and perches on the fence beside him.] I was looking for you.
Robert—[Pointedly.] Andy just left here.
Ruth—I know. I met him on the road a second ago. He told me you were here. [Tenderly playful.] I wasn’t looking for Andy, Smarty, if that’s what you mean. I was looking for you.
Robert—Because I’m going away tomorrow?
Ruth—Because your mother was anxious to have you come home and asked me to look for you. I just wheeled Ma over to your house.
Robert—[Perfunctorily.] How is your mother?
Ruth—[A shadow coming over her face.] She’s about the same. She never seems to get any better or any worse. Oh, Rob, I do wish she’d pick up a little or or try to make the best of things that can’t be helped.
Robert—Has she been nagging at you again?
Ruth—[Nods her head, and then breaks forth rebelliously.] She never stops nagging. No matter what I do for her she finds fault. She’s growing more
