When the curtain rises, THADDEUS TRASK, a man of fifty or sixty years of age, short and thick set, slow in speech and movement, yet in perfect health, sits lazily smoking his pipe in a chair at the right of the centre table. After a moment, MARY TRASK, a tired, emaciated woman, whose years equal her husband's, enters from the yard, carrying a pail of water and a lantern. She puts the pail on the bench and hangs the lantern above it; then crosses to the stove. MARY. Ain't got wood 'nough fer breakfast, Thad. THADDEUS. I'm too tired to go out now; wait till mornin'. [Pause. MARY lays the fire in the stove.] Did I tell ye that old man Reed saw three Southern troopers pass his house this mornin'? MARY [takes coffee pot from stove, crosses to bench, fills pot with water]. I wish them soldiers would git out o' the neighborhood. Whenever I see 'em passin', I have t' steady myself 'gainst somethin' or I'd fall. I couldn't hardly breathe yesterday when the Southerners came after fodder. I'd die if they spoke t' me. THADDEUS. Ye needn't be afraid of Northern soldiers. MARY [puts coffee pot on stove]. I hate 'em all--Union or Southern. I can't make head or tail t' what all this fightin's 'bout. An' I don't care who wins, so long as they git through, an' them soldiers stop stealin' our corn an' potatoes. THADDEUS. Ye can't hardly blame 'em if they're hungry, ken ye? MARY. It ain't right that they should steal from us poor folk. [Lifts a huge gunny sack of potatoes from the table and begins setting the table for breakfast, getting knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, and saucers--two of each--from the cupboard.] We have hard 'nough times t' make things meet now. I ain't set down onct to-day, 'cept fer meals; an' when I think o' the work I got t' do t'morrow, I ought t' been in bed hours ago. THADDEUS. I'd help if I could, but it ain't my fault if the Lord see'd fit t' lay me up, so I'm always ailin'. [Rises lazily.] Ye better try an' take things easy t'morrow. MARY. It's well 'nough t' say, but them apples got t' be picked an' the rest o' the potatoes sorted. If I could sleep at night it'd be all right, but with them soldiers 'bout, I can't. THADDEUS [crosses to right; fondly handles his double-barrelled shot-gun]. Jolly, wish I'd see a flock o' birds. MARY [showing nervousness]. I'd rather go without than hear ye fire. I wish ye didn't keep it loaded. THADDEUS. Ye know I ain't got time t' stop an' load when I see the birds. They don't wait fer ye. [Hangs gun on wall, drops into his chair, dejectedly.] Them pigs has got to be butchered. MARY. Wait till I git a chance t' go t' sister's. I can't stand it t' hear 'em squeal. THADDEUS [pulling off his boots, grunting meanwhile]. Best go soon then, 'cause they's fat as they'll ever be, an' there ain't no use in wastin' feed on 'em. [Pause, rises.] Ain't ye most ready fer bed? MARY. Go on up. [THADDEUS takes candle in one hand, boots in other; moves toward stairs.]