n?

MADELINE: It's--the _world_. It's--

IRA: The _world_? If that's all you've got to cry about! (_to_ HOLDEN)
Tell her that's nothing to cry about. What's the matter with you.
Mad'line? That's crazy--cryin' about the world! What good has ever come
to this house through carin' about the world? What good's that college?
Better we had that hill. Why is there no one in this house to-day but me
and you? Where's your mother? Where's your brother? The _world_.

HOLDEN: I think your father would like to talk to you. I'll go
outside--walk a little, and come back for you with your aunt. You must
let us see you through this, Madeline. You couldn't bear the things it
would bring you to. I see that now. (_as he passes her in the doorway
his hand rests an instant on her bent head_) You're worth too much to
break.

IRA: (_turning away_) I don't want to talk to you. What good comes of
talking? (_In moving, he has stepped near the sack of corn. Takes hold
of it_.) But not with Emil Johnson! That's not--what your mother died
for.

MADELINE: Father, you must talk to me. What did my mother die for? No
one has ever told me about her--except that she was beautiful--not like
other people here. I got a feeling of--something from far away.
Something from long ago. Rare. Why can't Uncle Felix talk about her? Why
can't you? Wouldn't she want me to know her? Tell me about her. It's my
birthday and I need my mother.

IRA: (_as if afraid he is going to do it_) How can you touch--what
you've not touched in nineteen years? Just once--in nineteen years--and
that did no good.

MADELINE: Try. Even though it hurts. Didn't you use to talk to her?
Well, I'm her daughter. Talk to me. What has she to do with Emil
Johnson?

IRA: (_the pent-up thing loosed_) What has she to do with him? She died
so he could live. He lives because she's dead, (_in anguish_) And what
is _he_ alongside her? Yes. Something from far away. Something from long
ago. Rare. How'd you know that? Finding in me--what I didn't know was
there. Then _she_ came--that ignorant Swede--Emil Johnson's
mother--running through the cornfield like a crazy woman--'Miss Morton!
Miss Morton! Come help me! My children are choking!' Diphtheria they
had--the whole of 'em--but out of this house she ran--my Madeline,
leaving you--her own baby--running as fast as she could through the
cornfield after that immigrant woman. She stumbled in the rough
field--fell to her knees. That was the last I saw o