Ain't
it queer how things blow from mind to mind--like seeds. Lord
A'mighty--you don't know where they'll take hold.
(_Children's voices off_.)
GRANDMOTHER: There come those children up from the creek--soppin' wet, I
warrant. Well, I don't know how children ever get raised. But we raise
more of 'em than we used to. I buried three--first ten years I was here.
Needn't 'a' happened--if we'd known what we know now, and if we hadn't
been alone. (_With all her strength_.) I don't know what you mean--the
hill's not yours!
SILAS: It's the future's, mother--so's we can know more than we know
now.
GRANDMOTHER: We know it now. 'Twas then we didn't know it. I worked for
that hill! And I tell you to leave it to your own children.
SILAS: There's other land for my own children. This is for all the
children.
GRANDMOTHER: What's all the children to you?
SILAS: (_derisively_) Oh, mother--what a thing for you to say! You who
were never too tired to give up your own bed so the stranger could have
a better bed.
GRANDMOTHER: That was different. They was folks on their way.
FEJEVARY: So are we.
(SILAS _turns to him with quick appreciation_.)
GRANDMOTHER: That's just talk. We're settled now.
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