You won’t give me away?

Dr. Jonathan.  Never!

George.  Dad ought to be here in a minute, he’s in there with old Timothy Farrell, the moulder foreman.  It seems that things are in a mess at the shops.  Rotten of the men to make trouble now—­don’t you think?—­when the country’s at war!  Darned unpatriotic, I say.

Dr. Jonathan.  I saw a good many stars in your service flag as I passed the office door this morning.

George.  Yes.  Over four hundred of our men have enlisted.  I don’t understand it.

Dr. Jonathan.  Perhaps you will, George, when you come home.

George.  You mean—­

(George is interrupted by the entrance, lower right, of his mother, Augusta pindar.  She is now in the fifties, and her hair is turning grey.  Her uneventful, provincial existence as ASHER’S wife has confirmed and crystallized her traditional New England views, her conviction that her mission is to direct for good the lives of the less fortunate by whom she is surrounded.  She carries her knitting in her hand,—­a pair of socks for George.  And she goes at once to Dr. Jonathan.)

Augusta.  So you are Jonathan.  They told me you’d arrived—­why didn’t you come to us?  Do you think it’s wise to live in that old house of your father’s before it’s been thoroughly heated for a few days?

Dr. Jonathan (taking her hand).  Oh, I’m going to live with the doors and windows open.

Augusta.  Dear me!  I understand you’ve been quite ill, and you were never very strong as a child.  I made it my business to go through the house yesterday, and I must say it looks comfortable.  But the carpenters and plumbers have ruined the parlour, with that bench, and the sink in the corner.  What are you going to do there?

Dr. Jonathan.  I’m having it made into a sort of laboratory.

Augusta.  You don’t mean to say you intend to do any work!

Dr. Jonathan.  Work ought to cure me, in this climate.

Augusta.  You mean to practise medicine?  You ought to have consulted us.  I’m afraid you won’t find it remunerative, Jonathan,—­but your father was impractical, too.  Foxon Falls is still a small place, in spite of the fact that the shops have grown.  Workmen’s families can’t afford to pay big fees, you know.

Dr. Jonathan (smiling).  I know.

Augusta.  And we already have an excellent physician here, Dr. Senn.

Dr. Jonathan.  I shan’t interfere with Dr. Senn.

George (laying his hand on AUGUSTA’s shoulder:  apologetically).  Mother feels personally responsible for every man, woman and child in Foxon Falls.  I shouldn’t worry about Dr. Jonathan if I were you, mother, I’ve got a notion he can take care of himself.