.

DAVE. Hello, Sam.

SAM. Hello.

LIZBETH. [_Pleased with the example of_ SAM _and_ EM'LY.] Dave!

EM'LY. Why, how do you do?

DAVE. Where's Jim?

SAM. In the house.

LIZBETH. Isn't it awful, Em'ly. [_She and_ EM'LY _go to the little
porch._

SAM. What's the matter?

DAVE. People don't understand it.

SAM. What do you mean?

DAVE. Why, Jim; lots of 'em thinks he did it.

SAM. Did what? Shoot Travers?

DAVE. No, give him that horse--

SAM. Give to him? Git out.

DAVE. Well, you bet they said so, and Bollinger and Sarber and Cal and
lots of them think so.

SAM. [_Astonished._] Git out!

DAVE. Yes, sir-ee.

SAM. They better not say that to me.

DAVE. Why, they'd say it to Jim--you ought to hear them talking at the
convention--

SAM. Is this the day of the convention?

DAVE. 'Tain't come to order yit, but they're all up to the Court
House,--one feller nailed the telegrams on a bulletin where everybody
could read them.

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,