ANNA—[Pleased.] I'm glad to hear it. Then you think's he'll stake me to that rest cure I'm after?

MARTHY—[Emphatically.] Surest thing you know. [Disgustedly.] But where'd yuh get the idea he was a janitor?

ANNA—He wrote me he was himself.

MARTHY—Well, he was lyin'. He ain't. He's captain of a barge—five men under him.

ANNA—[Disgusted in her turn.] A barge? What kind of a barge?

MARTHY—Coal, mostly.

ANNA—A coal barge! [With a harsh laugh.] If that ain't a swell job to find your long lost Old Man working at! Gee, I knew something'd be bound to turn out wrong—always does with me. That puts my idea of his giving me a rest on the bum.

MARTHY—What d'yuh mean?

ANNA—I s'pose he lives on the boat, don't he?

MARTHY—Sure. What about it? Can't you live on it, too?

ANNA—[Scornfully.] Me? On a dirty coal barge! What d'you think I am?

MARTHY—[Resentfully.] What d'yuh know about barges, huh? Bet yuh ain't never seen one. That's what comes of his bringing yuh up inland—away from the old devil sea—where yuh'd be safe—Gawd! [The irony of it strikes her sense of humor and she laughs hoarsely.]

ANNA—[Angrily.] His bringing me up! Is that what he tells people! I like his nerve! He let them cousins of my Old Woman's keep me on their farm and work me to death like a dog.

MARTHY—Well, he's got queer notions on some things. I've heard him say a farm was the best place for a kid.

ANNA—Sure. That's