Julia.—Here, too? (Andrew comes in leading Jackie across the footbridge beyond the wicket. The child is pulling a toy wagon full of sand. Having entered, he respectfully offers to kiss John’s hand, but is rebuffed.)
Andrew (Guiding the boy).—There, there, Mr. Driver! Slowly! Let’s not tip over. What if our load should fall into the river, horse and all! Go now, and kiss your uncle’s hand.
John.—Yes, Julia. (To the boy) No, no, not now!
Jack.—Mama, Andrew thinks I am a horse, and that he is a big horse, and that we might fall into the water, when there is no water.
Julia.—All right Jackie, go on with your game right here beside mama.
John.—Julia, I want you to believe about me what you must must have noticed during all these years—that I am different from other men . . .
Julia (Vehemently).—I’ll tell you what you are; you are a cynic and you are trying to behave like a brute.
John.—Hm, your sister talked just like that once. Once she had no word for me but . . . what you have now, and yet she became—how shall we say—my own. I tell you I had to overcome some obstacles there! When I say that I am different from other men, I mean that I don’t mind obstacles. I always find the means for removing them, be it as cynic or brute. (Again catching her hands) I shall in time remove this obstacle. I know you, you Lash sisters.
Julia.—Sir, how dare you! If you were not holding my hands you would see!
Andrew (By way of warning).—I kiss your hand, my lady.
Ann (With point).—Oh, I beg your pardon doctor. I imagined that you were wandering over hill and dale, and here you are amusing yourself with (Sarcastically) little Jackie. What about your own son? Isn’t this a great deal out of your way?
John.—Oh, I shall have time to rest beneath the Shorfstein yet before the young folks return. Their outing is to close with fireworks, and so they won’t be coming till after dark. Besides, since the gentle director of my every step seems determined to know, I wished to see, en passant, how Karvan’s Pulmonary Flower Tea is being taken care of.
Ann.—As if Andrew had not prepared more bloom in his time than you will ever see!
John (Glancing at his watch).—Then I’ll mosey along. Of
