MRS. VERNON. Thank you, Dave--ask that old man in there if he'll have a glass. DAVE. Yes'm. [_Exit to shop._ MRS. VERNON. We'll clear the place right up, Kate--don't feel bad about it. KATE. You needn't, mother--if Mr. Travers calls, we can go walking. [_Goes to door._ MRS. VERNON. No, Kate, and I say it only fur your sake--I wouldn't have the people of Bowling Green see you trapsing the streets at night with a man you ain't knowed but a month, fur nothin'. _Enter_ JOE VERNON. JOE _is a six-footer, with full beard. He wears a leather apron and has his sleeves rolled up._ JOE. Dave says, ma, that-- MRS. VERNON. Yes, here it is. [_Hands glass of beer._] Nearly dead, Joe? JOE. [_Smiling._] Oh, no--but I kin stand this. KATE. Is there any objection to our spending the evening at Mrs. Woods? MRS. VERNON. Now, what's the attraction there? KATE. She has a piano. MRS. VERNON. Yes, with two teeth broke out of it. Why don't you ever play on the melodeon? [_Pointing to it._ JOE. Yes, after Jim givin' it to you. MRS. VERNON. [_Clearing up the ironing._] I wouldn't treat a dog the way you treat Jim Radburn, Kate. KATE silent at doorway. JOE. [_At the wash-basin on the bench at back wall._] Ma, where's the soap? MRS. VERNON. I must a-left it in the dish-pan. JOE _gets it and begins washing in tin basin._ JOE. [_Calling through sputter._] Dave! DAVE. [_Off._] Yes, sir. JOE. [_At door of shop._] Might as well shut up. DAVE. All right. BOLLINGER. [_Outside to the left._] Good-evening, Katie. KATE. Good-evening, Colonel. BOLLINGER. Rain seems to let up. Where's pa? [_Appears window._ JOE. [_Looking up from the basin._] Hello, Tom. BOLLINGER. Evening, Joe--Mrs. Vernon--Hello, Lizbeth. LIZBETH. [_Again in the rocker._] Hello, Colonel. BOLLINGER. Jis' through? JOE. Been puttin' in a little overtime. BOLLINGER. Reckon you'll have another job. JOE. How's that? BOLLINGER. Louisiana stage bust a tire on the near fore-wheel to-night. JOE. That's so? Look out--jus' a minute. [BOLLINGER _steps aside;_ JOE _throws water out of the window._] There, ma--don't say I lost it now. [_Throws soap back into dish-pan._] How'd she come to do that? BOLLINGER. Too big a load, I guess--then the rain's cut up the road so, and she were stuck in a rut, an' all of 'em pryin' at her with fence-rails. JOE. Somethin' had to come. BOLLINGER. Ye-ep. MRS. VERNON. [_Sits at table and fans._] Won't you come in? BOLLINGER. No, thank you. Too hot. Down to Louisiana on business--sweat clean through two paper collars. This'n's getting mealy. [_He wipes his neck._ JOE. 'J-ever see such weather. [_Punches_ LIZBETH _to get out of rocker; sits in her place._ LIZBETH _goes to the melodeon stool._ BOLLINGER. Not since I was born. I hope the blamed rain's over. All passenger trains holdin' down to eight mile an hour 'tween St. Charles and Jonesburg on the Wabash on 'count of the wash-outs. JOE. Why don't they ballast that air track?