BEN. (very jovial) I suppose I have been. And why not? Horace has done Hubbard Sons many a good turn. Why shouldn’t I be anxious to help him now?

REGINA. (laughs) Help him! Help him when you need him, that’s what you mean.

BEN. What a woman you married, Horace. (Laughs awkwardly when HORACE does not answer) Well, then I’ll make it quick. You know what I’ve been telling you for years. How I’ve always said that every one of us little Southern businessmen had great things—(Extends his arm)—right beyond our finger tips. It’s been my dream: my dream to make those fingers grow longer: I’m a lucky man, Horace, a lucky man. To dream and to live to get what you’ve dreamed of. That’s my idea of a lucky man. (Looks at his fingers as his arm drops slowly) For thirty years I’ve cried bring the cotton mills to the cotton. (HORACE opens medicine bottle). Well, finally I got up nerve to go to Marshall Company in Chicago.