On the outside of the window covering the same is an iron guard such as is used in New York on the lower back windows.  The rods running up and down are about four inches apart.  There is a projection outside the window such as would be formed by a storm door in the basement; running the full length of the window and about thirty inches wide, raised about a foot from the floor in front and about nine inches in the back, there is opening inward a door at left back, leading into a small alcove, as has been mentioned before.  The door is half glass, the glass part being the upper half, and is ajar when the curtain rises.  A projection at fireplace such as would be made for a chimney is in the wall which runs from left centre diagonally to left first entrance.

AT RISE the stage is empty.  After a pause LAURA enters, passes the dresser, places umbrella at the right, end of it against wall, crosses to back of armchair, removes gloves, lays them over back of chair, takes off coat and hat, hangs hat on end of wardrobe, and puts coat inside; notices old slipper in front of dresser and one on the extreme right, and with impatience picks them up and puts them in the wardrobe drawer.  Then crosses to dresser, gets needle and thread off pincushion, and mends small rip in glove, after which she puts gloves in top drawer of dresser, crosses to extreme end of dresser, and gets handkerchief out of box, takes up bottle containing purple perfume, holds it up so she can see there is only a small quantity left, sprinkles a drop on handkerchief carefully, so as not to use too much, looks at bottle again to see how much is left, places it on dresser; goes to up-stage side of bed, kneels on head of the bed and looks lovingly at photo of JOHN MADISON, and finally pulls up the mattress, takes out box of letters, and opens it.  She then sits down in Oriental fashion, with her feet under her, selects a bundle of letters, unties the ribbon, and takes out a letter such as has been hereinbefore described, glances it over, puts it down in her lap, and again takes a long look at the picture of JOHN MADISON.  ANNIE is heard coming upstairs.  LAURA looks quickly towards the door, puts the letters back in box, and hurriedly places box under mattress, and replaces pillow.  ANNIE knocks on door.  LAURA rises and crosses to door.

LAURA.  Come in.

ANNIE, a chocolate-colored negress, enters.  She is slovenly in appearance, but must not in any way denote the “mammy.”  She is the type one encounters in cheap theatrical lodging-houses.  She has a letter in her hand,—­also a clean towel folded,—­and approaches LAURA.

LAURA.  Hello, Annie.

ANNIE.  Heah’s yo’ mail, Miss Laura.

LAURA. [Taking letter.] Thank you!

[She looks at the address and does not open it.

ANNIE.  One like dat comes every mornin’, don’t it?  Used to all be postmahked Denver.  Must ‘a’ moved. [Trying to look over LAURA’S shoulder; LAURA turns and sees her; ANNIE looks away.] Where is dat place called Goldfield, Miss Laura?