Exit KATE.

JOE.  What’s ailing Kate?

MRS. VERNON.  Seems out o’ sorts—­mebbe she’ll tell me alone. [Exit.

DAVE. [Protesting.] You can’t move backwards.

LIZBETH.  Well?

DAVE.  That’s cornered.

JOE.  He’s got you, Lizbeth.

JIM.  Dave!

DAVE.  Yes?

JIM.  I saw the Wabash folks.

DAVE.  Have a talk with them?

JIM. [Hands DAVE a paper.] Yes—­there’s a memorandum agreement—­they’ll take all I can give ’em at thirty dollars a car-load.

JOE.  What’s that?

JIM takes a piece of gumbo from pocket and hands it to JOE.

JIM. [To DAVE.] Now I’ve got a proposition for you.

DAVE.  What?

JIM.  You superintend the burnin’ of the stuff, and I’ll take you in.

DAVE.  Why, Jim—­[Rises in delight.

JOE.  What’s this fur?

JIM.  Ballast.

JOE.  Ballast?

JIM.  Yes, that road-bed that washes out. [Pause.] Thirty dollars a car.

JOE.  What!

JIM.  Me an’ Dave.

DAVE.  Why, Jim, I ain’t got no claim on you.

JIM.  You pumped the bellows this morning while I burned it.

DAVE.  Well—­

JIM.  And you want a steady job, don’t you?

DAVE.  Well—­["I should say so,” understood; turns to him.

JOE.  But see here—­[JIM looks at him—­waits.]—­You goin’ into this?

JIM.  Wouldn’t you, if you got the contract?

JOE.  But Dave—­Dave’s helpin’ me!

JIM.  You told him to git a job, didn’t you?

JOE.  Yes—­but—­

LIZBETH. [Ready for a fight.] An’ that’s what you told me.

JIM. [Abetting LIZBETH.] Yes.

JOE.  But my business needs somebody.

JIM.  Then why don’t you let them git married?

JOE.  An’ me support them?

JIM. [In disgust.] Hell!—­

JOE.  What’s the matter?

JIM.  Ain’t he worth his wages?

JOE.  I never said he wasn’t.

JIM. [In superlative display.] And he’s made nearly a whole set of furniture.

JOE.  But if I went to Jefferson, I was goin’ to leave this shop with
Dave.

LIZBETH. [With pride.] Dave!

JIM.  Well, that’s different.  See here!  You let ’em get married.  I only want Dave to superintend this burnin’—­it won’t take two half-days a week to kind a-look it over—­we kin get niggers to do the work, and Dave kin stay here.

LIZBETH.  Dave!—­

DAVE. [Hushing her.] Sh—­

JOE.  Well, I’ll think it over and—­

JIM. [Positively.] No!

JOE.  No?

JIM. I can’t fool with you, Joe; he gits the girl or we quit.

LIZBETH.  An’ the girl goes too.

JOE.  What?