FLAMM
Then let your father marry August Keil, if he's so crazy about the fellow. Why, he's positively obsessed. It's madness the way he's taken with that man!
ROSE
You're unjust, Mr. Flamm; that's all.
FLAMM
Say rather ... Well, what? What was I going to say?... I can't bear that sanctimonious phiz! My gorge rises at the sight of him. God forgive me, Rosie, and forgive you especially! Why shouldn't I be open with you? It may be that he has his merits. They say, too, that he's saved up a few shillings. But that's no reason why you should go and drown yourself in his paste-pot!
ROSE
No, Christopher! Don't talk that way! I musn't listen to such talk, the dear Lord knows!--August, he's been through a lot!--His sickness an' his misfortunes--that goes right to a person's soul ...
FLAMM
A man can never understand you women folks. You're an intelligent and determined girl, and suddenly, on one point, your stupidity is simply astonishing--goose-like, silly! It goes straight to your soul, does it?
From that point of view you might as well marry an ex-convict, if pity or stupidity are reasons. You ought to raise a bit of a row with your father for once! What's hurting August? He grew up in the orphan house and succeeded in making his way for all that. If you won't have him, his brethren in the Lord will find him another. They're expert enough at that!
ROSE
[_With decision._] No, that won't do. And--it has got to be, Mr.
Flamm.--I'm not sorry for what's happened, though I've had my share o'
sufferin' in quiet. All to myself, I mean. But never mind. An' nothin'
can change that now. But it's got to come to an end some day--it can't never an' never go on this way.
FLAMM
Can't go on? What do you mean by that exactly?
ROSE
Just ... because things is no different in this world. I can't put him off no longer; an' father wouldn't bear with it. An' he's quite right in that matter. Dear Lord ha' mercy! 'Tis no easier on that account! But when it'll all be off a body's soul ... I don't know--[_She touches her breast._] they calls it, I believe, strain o' the heart, Oh, times are when I has real pains in my heart ... An' a person can't feel that way all the time.
FLAMM
Well, then there's nothing more to be done just now. It's time for me to be getting home. [_He gets up and throws the rifle across his shoulder._]
Another time then, Rosie. Good-bye!
_ROSE stares straight in front of her without answering._
FLAMM
What's the matter, Rosie? Won't there be another time?
_ROSE shakes her head._
FLAMM
What, have I hurt you, Rosie?
ROSE
There'll never be another time--like this--Mr. Flamm.
FLAMM
[_With despairing passion._] Girl, I don't care if it costs me everything ...
[_He embraces her and kisses her again and again._
ROSE
[_Suddenly in extreme terror._] For the love o' ... some one's comin', Mr. Flamm!
_FLAMM in consternation, jumps up and disappears behind a bush._
_ROSE gets up hastily, straightens her hair and her dress and looks anxiously about her. As no one appears she takes up the hoe and begins to weed the potato patch. After a while there approaches, unnoticed by her, the machinist ARTHUR STRECKMANN dressed in his Sunday coat. He is what would generally be called a handsome man--large, broad-shouldered, his whole demeanour full of self-importance. He has a blond beard that extends far down his chest. His garments, from his jauntily worn huntsman's hat to his highly polished boots, his walking coat and his embroidered waistcoat, are faultless and serve to show, in connection with his carriage, that STRECKMANN not only thinks very well of himself but is scrupulously careful of his person and quite conscious of his unusual good looks._
STRECKMANN
[_As though but now becoming conscious of ROSE'S presence, in an affectedly well-modulated voice._] Good day, Rosie.
ROSE
[_Turns frightened._] Good day, Streckmann. [_In an uncertain voice_]
Why, where did you come from? From church?
STRECKMANN
I went away a bit early.
ROSE
[_Excitedly and reproachfully._] What for? Couldn't you put up with the sermon?
STRECKMANN
[_Boldly._] Oh, it's such beautiful weather out. An' that's why! I left my wife in the church too. A feller has got to be by himself once in a while.
ROSE
I'd rather be in church.
STRECKMANN
That's where the women folks belongs.