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.