MRS. ATKINS—[With a disapproving glance...

MRS. ATKINS—[With a disapproving glance at the place set on the table.] Robert's late for his dinner again, as usual. I don't see why Ruth puts up with it, and I've told her so. Many's the time I've said to her "It's about time you put a stop to his nonsense. Does he suppose you're runnin' a hotel—with no one to help with things?" But she don't pay no attention. She's as bad as he is, a'most—thinks she knows better than an old, sick body like me.

MRS. MAYO—[Dully.] Robbie's always late for things. He can't help it, Sarah.

MRS. ATKINS—[With a snort.] Can't help it! How you do go on, Kate, findin' excuses for him! Anybody can help anything they've a mind to—as long as they've got health, and ain't rendered helpless like me, [She adds as a pious afterthought]—through the will of God.

MRS. MAYO—Robbie can't.

MRS. ATKINS—Can't! It do make me mad, Kate Mayo, to see folks that God gave all the use of their limbs to potterin' round and wastin' time doin' every thing the wrong way—and me powerless to help and at their mercy, you might say. And it ain't that I haven't pointed the right way to 'em. I've talked to Robert thousands of times and told him how things ought to be done. You know that, Kate Mayo. But d'you s'pose he takes any notice of what I say? Or Ruth, either—my own daughter? No, they think I'm a crazy, cranky old woman, half dead a'ready, and the sooner I'm in the grave and out o' their way the better it'd suit them.

MRS. MAYO—You mustn't talk that way, Sarah. They're not as wicked as that. And you've got years and years before you.

MRS. ATKINS—You're like the rest, Kate. You don't know how near the end I am. Well, at least I can go to my eternal rest with a clear conscience. I've done all a body could do to avert ruin from this house. On their heads be it!

MRS. MAYO—[With hopeless indifference.] Things might be worse. Robert never had any experience in farming. You can't expect him to learn in a day.

MRS. ATKINS—[Snappily.] He's had three years to learn, and he's gettin' worse 'stead of better. He hasn't got it in him, that's what; and I do say it to you, Kate Mayo, even if he is your son. He doesn't want to learn. Everything I've told him he's that pig-headed he's gone and done the exact opposite. And now look where things are! They couldn't be worse, spite o' what you say. Not on'y your place but mine too is driftin' to rack and ruin, and I can't do nothin' to prevent, 'cause Ruth backs him up in his folly and shiftlessness.

MRS. MAYO—[With a spark of assertiveness.] You can't say but Robbie works hard, Sarah.

MRS. ATKINS—What good's workin' hard if it don't accomplish anythin', I'd like to know?

MRS. MAYO—Robbie's had bad luck against him.

MRS. ATKINS—Say what you've a mind to, Kate, the proof of the puddin's in the eatin'; and you can't deny that things have been goin' from bad to worse ever since your husband died two years back.

MRS. MAYO—[Wiping tears from her eyes with her handkerchief.] It was God's will that he should be taken.

MRS. ATKINS—[Triumphantly.] It was God's punishment on James Mayo for the blasphemin' and denyin' of God he done all his sinful life! [MRS. MAYO begins to weep softly.] There, Kate, I shouldn't be remindin' you, I know. He's at peace, poor man, and forgiven, let's pray.

MR. MAYO—[Wiping her eyes—simply.] James was a good man.

MRS. ATKINS—[Ignoring this remark.] What I was sayin' was that since Robert's been in charge things've been goin' down hill steady. You don't know how bad they are. Robert don't let on to you what's happinin'; and you'd never see it yourself if 'twas under your nose. But, thank God, Ruth still comes to me once in a while for advice when she's worried near out of her senses by his goin's-on. Do you know what she told me last night? But I forgot, she said not to tell you—still I think you've got a right to know, and it's my duty not to let such things go on behind your back.

MRS. MAYO—[Wearily.] You can tell me if you want to.

MRS. ATKINS—[Bending over toward her—in a low voice.] Ruth was almost crazy about it. Robert told her he'd have to mortgage the farm—said he didn't know how he'd pull through 'til harvest without it, and he can't get money any other way. [She straightens up—indignantly.] Now what do you think of your Robert?

MRS. MAYO—[Resignedly.] If it has to be——

MRS. ATKINS—You don't mean to say you're goin' to sign away your farm, Kate Mayo—after me warnin' you?

MRS. MAYO—I'll do what Robbie says is needful.

MRS. ATKINS—[Holding up her hands.] Well, of all the foolishness!—well, it's your farm, not mine, and I've nothin' more to say.

MRS. MAYO—Maybe Robbie'll manage till Andy gets back and sees to things. It can't be long now.

MRS. ATKINS—[With keen interest.] Ruth says Andy ought to turn up any day. When does Robert figger he'll get here?

MRS. MAYO—He says he can't calculate exactly on account o' the Sunda being a sail boat. Last letter he got was from England, the day they were sailing for home. That was over a month ago, and Robbie thinks they're overdue now.

MRS. ATKINS—We can give praise to God then that he'll be back in the nick o' time. I've got confidence in Andy and always did have, when it comes to farmin'; and he ought to be tired of travellin' and anxious to get home and settle down to work again.

MRS. MAYO—Andy has been working. He's head officer on Dick's boat, he wrote Robbie. You know that.

MRS. ATKINS—That foolin' on ships is all right for a spell, but he must be right sick of it by this. Andy's got to the age where it's time he took hold of things serious and got this farm workin' as it ought to be again.

MRS. MAYO—[Musingly.] I wonder if he's changed much. He used to be so fine-looking and strong. [With a sigh.] Three years! It seems more like three hundred. [Her eyes filling—piteously.] Oh, if James could only have lived 'til he came back—and forgiven him!

MRS. ATKINS—He never would have—not James Mayo! Didn't he keep his heart hardened against him till the last in spite of all you and Robert did to soften him?

MRS. MAYO—[With a feeble flash of anger.] Don't you dare say that! [Brokenly.] Oh, I know deep down in his heart he forgave Andy, though he was too stubborn ever to own up to it. It was that brought on his death—breaking his heart just on account of his stubborn pride. [She wipes her eyes with her handkerchief and sobs.]

MRS. ATKINS—[Piously.] It was the will of God. [The whining crying of the child sounds from the kitchen. MRS. ATKINS frowns irritably.] Drat that young one! Seems as if she cries all the time on purpose to set a body's nerves on edge.

MRS. MAYO—[Wiping her eyes.] It's the heat upsets her. Mary doesn't feel any too well these days, poor little child!

MRS. ATKINS—She gets it right from her Pa—bein' sickly all the time. You can't deny Robert was always ailin' as a child. [She sighs heavily.] It was a crazy mistake for them two to get married. I argyed against it at the time, but Ruth was so spelled with Robert's wild poetry notions she wouldn't listen to sense. Andy was the one would have been the match for her. I always thought so in those days, same as your James did; and I know she liked Andy. Then 'long comes Robert with his book-learnin' and high-fangled talk—and off she goes and marries him.

MRS. MAYO—I've often thought since it might have been better the other way. But Ruth and Robbie seem happy enough together.

MRS. ATKINS—At any rate it was God's work—and His will be done.

O’Neill, Eugene. Beyond the Horizon. Web. http://www.bartleby.com/132/21.html