GRANDMOTHER:  Yes.  Well, I hope the other plan does bring him something. 
Silas has worked—­all the days of his life.

FEJEVARY:  I know.

GRANDMOTHER:  You don’t know the hull of it.  But I know. (rather to herself) Know too well to think about it.

GRANDMOTHER:  (as SILAS returns) I’ll get more cookies.

SILAS:  I’ll get them, mother.

GRANDMOTHER:  Get ’em myself.  Pity if a woman can’t get out her own cookies.

SILAS:  (seeing how hard it is for her) I wish mother would let us do things for her.

FEJEVARY:  That strength is a flame frailness can’t put out.  It’s a great thing for us to have her,—­this touch with the life behind us.

SILAS:  Yes.  And it’s a great thing for us to have you—­who can see those things and say them.  What a lot I’d ‘a’ missed if I hadn’t had what you’ve seen.

FEJEVARY:  Oh, you only think that because you’ve got to be generous.

SILAS:  I’m not generous. I’m seeing something now.  Something about you.  I’ve been thinking of it a good deal lately—­it’s got something to do with—­with the hill.  I’ve been thinkin’ what it’s meant all these years to have a family like yours next place to.  They did something pretty nice for the corn belt when they drove you out of Hungary.  Funny—­how things don’t end the way they begin.  I mean, what begins don’t end.  It’s another thing ends.  Set out to do something for your own country—­and maybe you don’t quite do the thing you set out to do—­

FEJEVARY:  No.

SILAS:  But do something for a country a long way off.

FEJEVARY:  I’m afraid I’ve not done much for any country.

SILAS:  (brusquely) Where’s your left arm—­may I be so bold as to inquire?  Though your left arm’s nothing alongside—­what can’t be measured.

FEJEVARY:  When I think of what I dreamed as a young man—­it seems to me my life has failed.

SILAS:  (raising his glass) Well, if your life’s failed—­I like failure.

(GRANDMOTHER MORTON returns with her cookies.)

GRANDMOTHER:  There’s two kinds—­Mr Fejevary.  These have seeds in ’em.

FEJEVARY:  Thank you.  I’ll try a seed cookie first.

SILAS:  Mother, you’ll have a glass of wine?

GRANDMOTHER:  I don’t need wine.

SILAS:  Well, I don’t know as we need it.

GRANDMOTHER:  No, I don’t know as you do.  But I didn’t go to war.

FEJEVARY:  Then have a little wine to celebrate that.

GRANDMOTHER:  Well, just a mite to warm me up.  Not that it’s cold.  (FEJEVARY brings it to her, and the cookies) The Indians used to like cookies.  I was talking to that young whippersnapper about the Indians.  One time I saw an Indian watching me from a bush, (points) Right out there.  I was never afraid of Indians when you could see the whole of ‘em—­but when you could see nothin’ but their bright eyes—­movin’ through leaves—­I declare they made me nervous.  After he’d been there an hour I couldn’t seem to put my mind on my work.  So I thought, Red or White, a man’s a man—­I’ll take him some cookies.