JIM. Hello! Dropped my pencil. [Picks it up.] Of course fell on the "buttered side," an' I've got to whittle it agin. [Takes enormous knife from his pocket and opens it.
Enter EM'LY, with milk-pails filled.
EM'LY. Say, Jim—
JIM. [Whets knife on boot.] Well?
EM'LY. You let the pony out?
JIM. [Sharpens pencil.] No.
EM'LY. Ain't in his stall.
JIM. I know. [EM'LY looks at JIM a moment and exits back of house. Looking at paper.] I reckon that's right—Mayor and City Council—[Writes—first wetting pencil in his mouth.] Huh—I s'pose I ought to write it in ink—dog gone it—[Writing through his speech.] If it wasn't for Em'ly I wouldn't care—not a damn—[Looks up.] I wonder whether it's U.G. or E.G. [Writes.] I'll jus' kinder round off the top an' play it both ways. "Resignation," and after that, why they kin see me personally.
Re-enter EM'LY, with pails empty. EM'LY sings.
EM'LY. [Pause.] Who did let him out?