A telegram?  For me?

Dr. Jonathan.  Yes, Asher.

(After giving it to Asher, Dr. Jonathan takes his stand beside Minnie, who is at the back of the room, near the bench.  He lays a hand on her arm.  Asher tears open the envelope and stares at the telegram, his hands trembling.)

Asher (exclaiming, in a half whisper).  George!

Augusta.  Oh Asher, not—­not—!

(She reaches for the telegram.  He gives it to her.  She reads.)
“Captain George Pindar severely wounded, condition critical.”

Timothy.  Please God he’ll be spared to ye!

Curtain.

ACT III

Scene:  Same as in Act I, the library of Asher Pindar’s house.

Time: 
   The following day, early afternoon.  A storm is raging, with wind
   and rain and occasional bright flashes of lightning and heavy peals
   of thunder.  Asher is pacing up and down the room, folding and
   unfolding his hands behind his back, when Augusta enters, lower
   right, her knitting in her hand.  There is a flash and a peal of
   thunder.

Augusta.  Oh!  Asher, did you know that the elm at the end of the Common was struck just now?—­that splendid old landmark!

Asher.  All the old landmarks are being struck down, one after another.

Augusta (going up to him and putting her hand on his arm).  I’ve been so nervous all day.  Do be careful how you go about during this strike.  Those sullen and angry groups of men on the street this morning—­

Asher.  Oh, they wouldn’t dare touch me.  If we only had a state constabulary we’d soon break that sort of thing up.  But the Legislature trembles whenever a labour leader opens his mouth.

Augusta (sitting down and taking up her knitting).  If only I could be of some help to you!  But it’s always been so.

Asher.  You’ve been a good wife, Augusta!

Augusta.  I don’t know.  I’ve kept your house, I’ve seen that you were well fed, but I’ve been thinking lately how little that is for a woman —­for a human being.

Asher (surprised).  Why, Augusta!  I can’t remember the time when you haven’t been busy.  You’ve taken an active part in church work and looked out for the people of the village.

Augusta.  Yes, and what has it all amounted to?  The poor are ungrateful, they won’t go near the church, and today they’re buying pianos.  Soon there won’t be any poor to help.

Asher.  That’s so.  We’ll be the paupers, if this sort of thing keeps on.

Augusta.  I’ve tried to do my duty as a Christian woman, but the world has no use, apparently, for Christians in these times.  And whenever you have any really serious trouble, I seem to be the last person you take into your confidence.