HANK. Excuse me, m'am. Have you your own towels by you? Ourn is pretty scaly. It's been so long since we've had in women folks, at least, ladies. PADIE [_moving toward the stair_]. Thanks, we have some. [_Lon to Padie as Hank, hidden from audience, descends._] LON. You might as well be decent, Padie. You ain't got none other but me. PADIE [_bitterly_]. Yes, you've took me from 'em. We've been trapsin and trapsin till I'm plumb sick. Yes, I'm-- [_Her voice breaks and she runs blindly toward the stair, almost into the arms of Hank, which further increases his consternation._] HANK [_holding her off_]. Stidy, stidy. There's the ladder, m'am. Can't I fetch you somethin'? Toddy? [_Padie shakes her head, runs up, and slams her door._] HANK [_to Lon in friendly fashion_]. Women folks is cur'us, cur'us. LON [_surlily_]. Take my advice and keep free from 'em. HANK. It was a woman did fer my brother. LON [_with increased interest_]. Oh, you've got a brother, eh? HANK [_simply_]. Had. LON. Where is he? HANK. Down at Laguna Madre, Arizony. LON [_leaning forward and gripping the edge of the table_]. Ranchin'? HANK. Buried. LON [_haltingly_]. How--what were you saying--about a woman? HANK. A woman done fer him. That's what they said, I don't know. I didn't git there fer a long time. There was a mix-up. LON. Well, well. That's strange. HANK [_eagerly_]. I s'pose you heard of it? It was in all the papers. It even got as fer as Denver. LON. No, I don't remember. But I've read of similar cases. HANK. You've been to Arizony, I s'pose. LON. No, not quite. I've been all around them parts, but never Arizony. HANK. 'Tain't what you'd call a perty country, but it's mighty satisfyin'. Too blame cold up here. LON. Why don't you move? HANK. I'm agoin' to, but you see my brother had half interest in this here tavern and there was some litigation about it. Case's just finished. I been here three years, ever since he went. But I'm pullin' my stakes, you bet. I wouldn't be _buried_ here! Would you? LON [_dryly_]. I'd rather not. HANK. So she took me fer a friend that'd croaked, eh? That's cur'us. LON. Eh? What's that? Who? HANK. Your wife. LON. Oh, yes. Well, he was a good ten years older. And dark-complected. HANK. Thought you said he was light. LON. Mebbe I did. Well, he mought have been a trifle lighten'n you, but then, size him up by the average, he was dark. Let's fergit him. Bring us a bottle of your best--and see that the glass is clean. HANK. To be sure. [_Goes out._] [_Lon sits with his head between his hands, brooding. The voice of Hank rises from the Bar, rendering the second verse of the Tennessee "warble."_] HANK [_in the Bar_]. There's many a girl can go all round about And hear the small birds sing. And many a girl that stays at home alone, And rocks the cradle and spins.