peaks back to
Beeler on the threshold._

LITTLEFIELD.

Don't bother! I'll find it.

_Looking for something, he approaches Rhoda, who has her back
turned._

Beg pardon. Have you seen a pocket thermometer I left here?

_She faces him. He starts back in surprise._

Bless my soul and body! Rhoda Williams!

_He closes the hall door, returns to her, and stands somewhat
disconcerted._

Here, of all places!

RHODA.

Mrs. Beeler is my aunt.

LITTLEFIELD.

Well, well! The world is small.--Been here long?

RHODA.

Only a month.

LITTLEFIELD.

And before that?

RHODA.

It's a long story. Besides, you wouldn't understand.

LITTLEFIELD.

You might let me try. What in the world have you been doing all this
time?

RHODA.

I have been searching for something.

LITTLEFIELD.

What was it?

RHODA.

My own lost self. My own--lost soul.

LITTLEFIELD.

_Amused at her solemnity._

You're a queer bundle of goods. Always were. Head full of solemn
notions about life, and at the same time, when it came to a lark,--Oh,
I'm no grandmother, but when you got on your high horse--well!

_He waves his hands expressively._

RHODA.

_Bursts out._

The great town, the people, the noise, and the lights--after seventeen
years of life on a dead prairie, where I'd hardly heard a laugh or seen
a happy face!--All the same, the prairie had me still.

LITTLEFIELD.

You don't mean you went back to the farm?

RHODA.

I mean that the years I'd spent out there in that endless stretch of
earth and sky--.

_She breaks off, with a weary gesture._

There's no use going into that. You wouldn't understand.

LITTLEFIELD.

No, I walk on simple shoe leather and eat mere victuals.--Just the
same, it wasn't square of you to clear out that way--vanish into air
without a word or a sign.

RHODA.

_Looking at him steadily._

You know very well why I went.

LITTLEFIELD.

_Returning her gaze, unabashed, chants with meaning and relish._

"Hey diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon."

_Rhoda takes up the basket and goes toward the outer door. He
intercepts her._

RHODA.

Let me pass.

LITTLEFIELD.

You're not taking part in this camp-meeting enthusiasm, are you?

RHODA.

Yes.

_As he stares at her, his astonishment changes to amusement; he
chuckles to himself, then bursts out laughing, as in humor