SAM.  What telegrams?

DAVE.  Why, Jim’s.

Enter JIM from house.

JIM.  Mornin’, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH.  How de do, Jim.

JIM.  Kate feelin’ all right?

LIZBETH.  Well; you know—­

JIM.  Oh, yes—­natural enough—­ain’t you workin’, Dave?

DAVE.  Convention.

JIM.  Sure.  Forgot the convention.

DAVE.  Me and Lizbeth come together because we thought Sam and Em’ly’d stand up with us.

JIM.  At the Squire’s?

DAVE.  No, preacher’s.

JIM.  I reckon. [Looks at EM’LY.

EM’LY.  Of course.

JIM.  Convention ain’t met?

DAVE.  Not yit.

JIM.  I think I’ll go down to the Court House. [Starts down and stops as he reaches the stile.] Hello!

SAM.  What’s up?

JIM.  Nothing’—­some o’ the boys—­comin’ here, I expect—­Say!

SAM.  What?

JIM.  I mean Dave.

DAVE.  How’s that?

JIM.  Will you do me a favour?

DAVE.  Certainly.

JIM. [Pointing off right.] This letter—­give it to the Mayor, or any of the Council—­some of them’s sure to be at the convention.

DAVE.  All right. [He goes onto the stile and stops.] Bollinger’s one, ain’t he?

JIM.  Yes.

DAVE.  He’s comin’ with them fellers—­

JIM.  Well, give it to him—­a little before he gits here.

DAVE.  All right, Jim. [Starts off—­stops.] No trouble, you don’t reckon?

JIM.  No, I reckon not.

Exit DAVE.

EM’LY.  Jim!

JIM.  I want you and Lizbeth to go in the house.  Go on!

EM’LY. [Going.] What’s the matter?

JIM.  You go with them, Sam—­and take care of ’em.

SAM. [Joining the girls on the porch.] Why, Jim, if there’s goin’ to be any trouble—­

JIM. [Watching the coming mob.] I reckon they ain’t—­and anyway I want this side of the fence by myself. [Exeunt LIZBETH and EM’LY to house.] Take ’em way back to the kitchen.

SAM. [At the door.] All right?

JIM.  Dead sure.

Exit SAM.  JIM removes his paper collar—­adjusts the two guns under his coat-tails—­takes a chew of tobacco, and fatefully waits.  Enter back of fence, BOLLINGER, SARBER, CAL, ESROM, DAVE, and SUPERS; DAVE drifts away from them to left. ESROM playing Jew’s-harp.  All enter when JIM gets through his preparations and leans against porch.

BOLLINGER. [Loudly.] Here, stop the band.

SARBER.  Stop her.

ESROM is silent.

BOLLINGER. [Pause.] Hello, Jim. [His tone carries a nagging insinuation.

JIM.  Hello.

DAVE.  I’ll tell the old man, Jim. [Going.

JIM.  Oh, no hurry, Dave.