Halsey, wonderfully himself in his work overalls, stands in the doorway and gazes up the street, expectantly. Then his eyes grow listless. He slouches against the smooth-rubbed frame. He lights a cigarette. Shifts his position. Braces an arm against the door. Kabnis passes the window and stoops to get in under Halsey’s arm. He is awkward and ludicrous, like a schoolboy in his big brother’s new overalls. He skirts the large blocks on the floor, and drops into a chair before the fire. Halsey saunters towards him. Kabnis: Time f lunch. Halsey: Ya. He stands by the hearth, rocking backward and forward. He stretches his hands out to the fire. He washes them in the warm glow of the flames. They never get cold, but he warms them. Kabnis: Saw Lewis up th street. Said he’d be down. Halsey’s eyes brighten. He looks at Kabnis. Turns away. Says nothing. Kabnis fidgets. Twists his thin blue cloth-covered limbs. Pulls closer to the fire till the heat stings his shins. Pushes back. Pokes the burned logs. Puts on several fresh ones. Fidgets. The town bell strikes twelve. Kabnis: Fix it up f tnight? Halsey: Leave it t me. Kabnis: Get Lewis in? Halsey: Tryin t. The air is heavy with the smell of pine and resin. Green logs spurt and sizzle. Sap trickles from an old pine-knot into the flames. Layman enters. He carries a lunch-pail. Kabnis, for the moment, thinks that he is a day laborer. Layman: Evenin, gen’lemun. Both: Whats say, Layman. Layman squares a chair to the fire and droops into it. Several town fellows, silent unfathomable men for the most part, saunter in. Overalls. Thick tan shoes. Felt hats marvelously shaped and twisted. One asks Halsey for a cigarette. He gets it. The blacksmith, a tremendous black man, comes in from the forge. Not even a nod from him. He picks up an axle and goes out. Lewis enters. The town men look curiously at him. Suspicion and an open liking contest for possession of their faces. They are uncomfortable. One by one they drift into the street. Layman: Heard y was leavin, Mr. Lewis. Kabnis: Months up, eh? Hell of a month I’ve got. Halsey: Sorry y goin, Lewis. Just getting acquainted like. Lewis: Sorry myself, Halsey, in a way— Layman: Gettin t like our town, Mr. Lewis? Lewis: I’m afraid its on a different basis, Professor. Halsey: An I’ve yet t hear about that basis. Been waitin long enough, God knows. Seems t me like youd take pity a feller if nothin more. Kabnis: Somethin that old black cockroach over yonder doesnt like, whatever it is. Layman: Thats right. Thats right, sho. Halsey: A feller dropped in here tother day an said he knew what you was about. Said you had queer opinions. Well, I could have told him you was a queer one, myself. But not th way he was driftin. Didnt mean anything by it, but just let drop he thought you was a little wrong up here—crazy, y’know. (Laughs.) Kabnis: Y mean old Blodson? Hell, he’s bats himself.