SILAS:  How do, stranger?

FEJEVARY:  And how are you today, Mrs Morton?

GRANDMOTHER:  I’m not abed—­and don’t expect to be.

SILAS:  (letting go of the balloons he has bought) Where’s Ira? and
Madeline?

GRANDMOTHER:  Mr Fejevary’s Delia brought them home with her.  They’ve gone down to dam the creek, I guess.  This young man’s been waiting to see you, Silas.

SMITH:  Yes, I wanted to have a little talk with you.

SILAS:  Well, why not? (he is tying the gay balloons to his gun, then as he talks, hangs his hat in the corner closet) We’ve been having a little talk ourselves.  Mother, Nat Rice was there.  I’ve not seen Nat Rice since the day we had to leave him on the road with his torn leg—­him cursing like a pirate.  I wanted to bring him home, but he had to go back to Chicago.  His wife’s dead, mother.

GRANDMOTHER:  Well, I guess she’s not sorry.

SILAS:  Why, mother.

GRANDMOTHER:  ‘Why, mother.’  Nat Rice is a mean, stingy, complaining man—­his leg notwithstanding.  Where’d you leave the folks?

SILAS:  Oh—­scattered around.  Everybody visitin’ with anybody that’ll visit with them.  Wish you could have gone.

GRANDMOTHER:  I’ve heard it all. (to FEJEVARY) Your folks well?

FEJEVARY:  All well, Mrs Morton.  And my boy Felix is home.  He’ll stop in here to see you by and by.

SILAS:  Oh, he’s a fine-looking boy, mother.  And think of what he knows! (cordially including the young man) Mr Fejevary’s son has been to Harvard College.

SMITH:  Well, well—­quite a trip.  Well, Mr Morton, I hope this is not a bad time for me to—­present a little matter to you?

SILAS:  (genially) That depends, of course, on what you’re going to present. (attracted by a sound outside) Mind if I present a little matter to your horse?  Like to uncheck him so’s he can geta a bit o’grass.

SMITH:  Why—­yes.  I suppose he would like that.

SILAS:  (going out) You bet he’d like it.  Wouldn’t you, old boy?

SMITH:  Your son is fond of animals.

GRANDMOTHER:  Lots of people’s fond of ’em—­and good to ’em.  Silas—­I dunno, it’s as if he was that animal.

FEJEVARY:  He has imagination.

GRANDMOTHER:  (with surprise) Think so?

SILAS:  (returning and sitting down at the table by the young man) Now, what’s in your mind, my boy?

SMITH:  This town is growing very fast, Mr Morton.

SILAS:  Yes. (slyly—­with humour) I know that.

SMITH:  I presume you, as one of the early settlers—­as in fact a son of the earliest settler, feel a certain responsibility about the welfare of—­

SILAS:  I haven’t got in mind to do the town a bit of harm.  So—­what’s your point?

SMITH:  More people—­more homes.  And homes must be in the healthiest places—­the—­the most beautiful places.  Isn’t it true, Mr Fejevary, that it means a great deal to people to have a beautiful outlook from their homes?  A—­well, an expanse.