You act funny to-night, Anna.

ANNA--[Her voice rising angrily.] Say, what're you trying to do--
make things rotten? You been kind as kind can be to me and I
certainly appreciate it--only don't spoil it all now. [Then,
seeing the hurt expression on her father's face, she forces a
smile.] Let's talk of something else. Come. Sit down here. [She
points to the coil of rope.]

CHRIS--[Sits down beside her with a sigh.] It's gatting pooty late
in night, Anna. Must be near five bells.

ANNA--[Interestedly.] Five bells? What time is that?

CHRIS--Half past ten.

ANNA--Funny I don't know nothing about sea talk--but those cousins
was always talking crops and that stuff. Gee, wasn't I sick of it--
and of them!

CHRIS--You don't like live on farm, Anna?

ANNA--I've told you a hundred times I hated it. [Decidedly.] I'd
rather have one drop of ocean than all the farms in the world!
Honest! And you wouldn't like a farm, neither. Here's where you
belong. [She makes a sweeping gesture seaward.] But not on a coal
barge. You belong on a real ship, sailing all over the world.

CHRIS--[Moodily.] Ay've done dat many year, Anna, when Ay vas damn
fool.