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—