MRS. VERNON. [Indicates the melodeon.] Play something.

KATE.  I can’t play on that melodeon, mother.

MRS. VERNON.  Poor old melodeon! for all the music we git out of it—­might as well be a folding bed.

ESROM. [Appearing at window.] I knowed they oughtn’t be any clinker in that coke.

JOE. [From his paper.] That’s all right, Esrom.

ESROM.  Don’t want no mo’ coke, Mistah?

JOE.  No, no, no!

ESROM hands KATE a letter.

ESROM. [Whispering.] He—­he wants an answer.

DAVE.  Hold on!

LIZBETH.  Well, it’s a king!

DAVE.  Yes—­but I move first.

A knock at street door.

JOE.  Come in.

Enter JIM.

MRS. VERNON.  Good-evenin’.

JOE. [Not turning.] Who is it?

JIM.  You’re all here, are you?

JOE. [Rising.] Hello, Jim.

JIM. [To JOE.] Hello. [EM’LY goes to him; he puts his arm about her.] How long you been here?

EM’LY.  All day.

JIM.  What?

JOE goes to the shelf at back and fills his pipe.

EM’LY.  So’s Sam.

SAM.  Mrs. Vernon made us stay to dinner.  Then supper.

JOE.  Sam didn’t feel like seeing the town folks.

JIM.  Why?

SAM.  Well, I didn’t know how they’d feel about it.

JIM.  What, think you did do it?

SAM.  I didn’t know.

JIM.  That’s just the reason; why, if you hang back, what can they do?

MRS. VERNON. [Explaining.] Well, Em’ly was here.

JIM.  I know, but Sam ought to have spunk to face ’em.  It’s got to come and you might as well know where your friends are.

JOE.  That’s so.

SAM. [Starting to door.] Well, I reckon most of ’em’s up at the drug-store.

JIM. [Emphatically.] Walk right in amongst ’em.

SAM.  Dog gone it!  I ain’t ashamed, but if they hint anything I’d feel like smashing ’em—­huh!

JIM.  You got to.

SAM.  All right. [Exit.

JIM.  Don’t let me stop the game.

LIZBETH.  Dave thinks all night.

EM’LY. [To JIM, putting him around.] Where have you been?

JIM.  St. Louis.  Been to see the railroad people.  Say, Joe!

JOE.  Yes?

JIM.  Sam’s got the express people scared.

JOE.  How’s that?

JIM.  Hearin’ I was his friend, they hinted to me that they’d like to square it.

JOE.  Compromise.

JIM. [Nodding his head.] I worked it up for him.  Said Bollinger was a regular terror.

EM’LY.  Will the express company have to pay Sam?

JIM.  Well, rather.  And after they do, Sam ought to go down to their president’s office and kick ’em all around the back-yard.