DR. MASTERSON. Humph! No doubt!
LETITIA. Mother, I wish you'd try to do something with Henry. He's so
restless and discontented . . . he's getting to be simply impossible.
MRS. MASTERSON. I'm going to talk to him to-day, my dear.
LETITIA. Fancy my going out and burying myself in the country! And he
means it . . . he's at me all the time about it!
MRS. MASTERSON. Well, don't go, my dear!
LETITIA. Don't worry yourself . . . I've not the least intention of
going. Such things as we modern women have to endure! Only fancy, he's
got an idea he wants to be where he can work with his hands!
MRS. MASTERSON. Henry ought to have discovered these yearnings before
he married one of the Mastersons. As my daughter, you have certain
social obligations to fill . . . your friends have a claim upon you,
quite as much as your husband.
LETITIA. He says he wants to take the bungalow and make it over . . .
wants to plan it and work at it himself. And with me and the children
sitting out on the mountain-top in the snow until he finishes, I
suppose!
MRS. MASTERSON. Quincy, do you know anything about this whim of
Henry's for a day-laborer's life?
DR. MASTERSON. My dear, Henry's a big, active man, and he wants
something to do.
MRS. MASTERSON. But hasn't he his business?
DR. MASTERSON. I dare say there are things more thrilling to a man
than commercial law-cases. And Henry's been thinking for himself . . .
he says the law's a cheat.
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