Old Tom: (pacing back and forth in a worried manner) If he's to go then he's to go. I'm naught but an old gaffer in his eyes and it should be no wonder he gives me no leave. (Doubting his own words) Still, him bein' my son an' all…I ought to set out after him. Ought to see if he be doin' alright in his ways. (Picks up his walking staff and a pack that he has already filled in his worry, starts to walks towards the door.) It's only right for a father to check up on his son now an' again…after all, wouldn't be much of a father if'n I didn't. (Stops with his hand at the knob of the door, thinking. He looks at his walking stick as if it were a stick he was taking to beat his son with.) No, no, he went off without tellin' me for a reason. An' he's old enough now too to do so. Don't need to be givin' me no leave…no sir…(As his face crumples in tears he throws the walking stick on the floor with a clatter and sits down, leaning his back against the chair and crying into his hands. He delivers these lines between sobs.) Ah, jes' that he was so small but a year ago…could hold him in my arms but last spring, I could…never should have let him talk with them traders, no sir…nuthin' but trouble and a pack of lies each n' every one…gettin' his head full of tales of adventure was what those villains were doin'…and I'll be damned if I…if I… (Tom sighs and wipes his eyes. Raising his head from his hands, he looks about at his small home with a pitying look, contemplating how empty it now seems.) No use getting' yourself in a fit over it Tom ole' boy…wouldn't be proper of a father to cry, no sir. (Tom gathers himself up and gets to his feet, using the door for support. He turns about and opens the door, looking out.) Jes' promise me this one thing Sam, you'll come back to your ole' gaffer and let him look at ye… one las' time... (Tom closes the door.)