DAVE. Yes'm. [Exit to shop.
MRS. VERNON. We'll clear the place right up, Kate—don't feel bad about it.
KATE. You needn't, mother—if Mr. Travers calls, we can go walking. [Goes to door.
MRS. VERNON. No, Kate, and I say it only fur your sake—I wouldn't have the people of Bowling Green see you trapsing the streets at night with a man you ain't knowed but a month, fur nothin'.
Enter JOE VERNON. JOE is a six-footer, with full beard. He wears a leather apron and has his sleeves rolled up.
JOE. Dave says, ma, that—
MRS. VERNON. Yes, here it is. [Hands glass of beer.] Nearly dead,
Joe?
JOE. [Smiling.] Oh, no—but I kin stand this.
KATE. Is there any objection to our spending the evening at Mrs.
Woods?
MRS. VERNON. Now, what's the attraction there?