Miss Mary. To restore him to a regenerated home. With this idea he followed his prodigal to California. I， you understand， was only an after-thought consequent upon his success. He came to California upon this pilgrimage two years ago. He had no recollection， so they tell me， by which he could recognize this erring son； and at first his search was wild， profitless， and almost hopeless. But by degrees， and with a persistency that seemed to increase with his hopelessness， he was rewarded by finding some clew to him at--at--at--Sandy (excitedly). At Poker Flat？
Miss Mary. Ah， perhaps you know the story，--at Poker Flat. He traced him to the Mission of San Carmel.
Sandy. Yes， miss： go on.
Miss Mary. He was more successful than he deserved， perhaps. He found him. I see you know the story.
Sandy. Found him！ Found him！ Miss， did you say found him？
Miss Mary. Yes， found him. And today Alexander Morton， the reclaimed prodigal， is part of the household I am invited to join.
So you see， Mr. Sandy， there is still hope. What has happened to him is only a promise to you. Eh！ Mr. Sandy--what is the matter？
Are you ill？ Your exertion this morning， perhaps. Speak to me！
Gracious heavens， he is going mad！ No！ No！ Yes--it cannot be--it is--he HAS broken his promise： he is drunk again.
Sandy (rising， excited and confused). Excuse me， miss， I am a little onsartain HERE (pointing to his head). I can't--I disremember--what you said jus' now： ye mentioned the name o' that prodigal that was found.
Miss Mary. Certainly： compose yourself，--my cousin's son， Alexander Morton. Listen， Sandy， you promised ME， you know， you said for MY sake you would not touch a drop. (Enter cautiously toward schoolhouse the DUCHESS， stops on observing SANDY， and hides behind rock.)
Sandy (still bewildered and incoherent). I reckon. Harkin， miss， is that thar thing (pointing towards rock where DUCHESS is concealed)--is that a tree， or--or--a woman？ Is it sorter movin' this way？
Miss Mary (laying her hand on SANDY'S). Recover your senses， for Heaven's sake， Sandy，--for MY sake！ It is only a tree.
Sandy (rising). Then， miss， I've broke my word with ye： I'm drunk.
P'r'aps I'd better be a-goin' (looking round confusedly) till I'm sober. (Going toward L.)
Miss Mary (seizing his hand). But you'll see me again， Sandy： you'll come here--before--before--I go？
Sandy. Yes， miss，--before ye go. (Staggers stupidly toward L.
Aside.) Found him！ found Alexander Morton！ It's a third time， Sandy， the third time： it means--it means--you're mad！ (Laughs wildly， and exit L.)
Miss Mary (springing to her feet). There is a mystery behind all this， Mary Morris， that you--you--must discover. That man was NOT drunk： he HAD NOT broken his promise to me. What does it all mean？
I have it. I will accept the offer of this Alexander Morton. I will tell him the story of this helpless man， this poor， poor， reckless Sandy. With the story of his own son before his eyes， he cannot but interest himself in his fate. He is rich： he will aid me in my search for Sandy's father， for Sandy's secret. At the worst， I can only follow the advice of this wretched man，--an advice so generous， so kind， so self-sacrificing. Ah--第一章SCENE 4.--The same. Enter the DUCHESS， showily and extravagantly dressed. Her manner at first is a mixture of alternate shyness and bravado.
The Duchess. I heerd tell that you was goin' down to 'Frisco to-morrow， for your vacation； and I couldn't let ye go till I came to thank ye for your kindness to my boy，--little Tommy.
Miss Mary (aside. Rising abstractedly， and recalling herself with an effort). I see，--a poor outcast， the mother of my anonymous pupil. (Aloud.) Tommy！ a good boy，--a dear， good little boy.
Duchess. Thankee， miss， thankee. If I am his mother， thar ain't a sweeter， dearer， better boy lives than him. And， if I ain't much as says it， thar ain't a sweeter， dearer， angeler teacher than he's got. It ain't for you to be complimented by me， miss； it ain't for such as me to be comin' here in broad day to do it， either； but I come to ask a favor，--not for me， miss， but for the darling boy.
Miss Mary (aside--abstractedly). This poor， degraded creature will kill me with her wearying gratitude. Sandy will not return， of course， while she is here. (Aloud.) Go on. If I can help you or yours， be assured I will.
The Duchess. Thankee， miss. You see， thar's no one the boy has any claim on but me， and I ain't the proper person to bring him up.
I did allow to send him to 'Frisco， last year； but when I heerd talk that a schoolma'am was comin' up， and you did， and he sorter tuk to ye natril from the first， I guess I did well to keep him yer. For， oh， miss， he loves ye so much； and， if you could hear him talk in his purty way， ye wouldn't refuse him anything.
Miss Mary (with fatigued politeness， and increasing impatience). I see， I see： pray go on.
The Duchess (with quiet persistency). It's natril he should take to ye， miss； for his father， when I first knowed him， miss， was a gentleman like yourself； and the boy must forget me sooner or later--and I ain't goin' to cry about THAT.
Miss Mary (impatiently). Pray tell me how I can serve you.
The Duchess. Yes， miss； you see， I came to ask you to take my Tommy，--God bless him for the sweetest， bestest boy that lives！--to take him with you. I've money plenty； and it's all yours and his.
Put him in some good school， whar ye kin go and see， and sorter help him to--forget---his mother. Do with him what you like. The worst you can do will be kindness to what he would learn with me.
You will： I know you will； won't you？ You will make him as pure and as good as yourself； and when he has grown up， and is a gentleman， you will tell him his father's name，--the name that hasn't passed my lips for years，--the name of Alexander Morton.
Miss Mary (aside). Alexander Morton！ The prodigal！ Ah， I see，--the ungathered husks of his idle harvest.
The Duchess. You hesitate， Miss Mary. (Seizing her.) Do not take your hand away. You are smiling. God bless you！ I know you will take my boy. Speak to me， Miss Mary.