[SCENE: _A very small room in a tar-papered shanty, reeking poverty. The entrance is center-back,--a few boards nailed together for a door. A similar door, opening into the bedroom of the shack, upstage right. Downstage left, a broken window. Left center, a rusty cooking stove. Above it, a series of shelves holding a few dishes and cooking utensils. Rough board table in the center of the room. A kitchen chair at the right of the table. A large wooden rocker near the stove; rope and wire hold it together. An arm-chair, below the bedroom door is full of newspapers. Several heterogeneous colored prints culled from out-of-date newspapers and calendars are tacked on the rain-stained walls. When the entrance door is open we see a cleared, sandy spot with a background of scrub oaks and jack pines._ _The curtain rises on the late afternoon of a spring day._ _A man of forty enters, leaving the bedroom door open behind him. His small head and childish face, on a tall, thin, and extremely erect body, resemble those of a species of putty-like rubber doll whose head may be reshaped by the hand. He wears a winter cap, blue flannel shirt, well-worn trousers with suspenders, and sneakers that were once white. Outside shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbow; undershirt sleeves are not. His shoes make no noise; nevertheless, he comes on tiptoe, his eyes fixed on the shelves. For a moment he stops and glances into the room he has just quitted. Satisfied, he squats before the shelves. He hesitates, then quickly lifts from a lower shelf an inverted cooking vessel, and grasps a small tin box which was hidden under it. He inspects the box, trying to decide whether he can pry open its lock._] [_The voice of an old, infirm man in the adjoining room_]: Seth? SETH [_alarmed; starts to return the box to the shelf_]. Yes, Pa? [_His voice is pitched high._] PA [_querulously_]. What yuh doin'? SETH. Jest settin'. PA. Don't yuh go near my tin box 'til I'm dead. [_Seth makes no answer._] PA. D'yuh hear? SETH. I hear. PA. I won't heve no one know nothin' 'bout my last will an' testament 'til I'm dead. [_There is a pause. Seth is regarding the box intently._] PA. Seth? SETH [_peevishly_]. What d'yuh want? PA. Bring me a drink. SETH. There ain't no more water in the pail. PA. There's lots in the well this spring. [_A pause. Seth continues his scrutiny of the lock._] PA. My throat's burnin' up. SETH. Well, maybe I kin find a drop. [_Puts the box on the shelf and re-covers it; in doing so makes a slight noise._] PA. What's that noise? SETH. I'm gettin' yuh a drink!