BOLLINGER. Reckon you'll have another job.
JOE. How's that?
BOLLINGER. Louisiana stage bust a tire on the near fore-wheel to-night.
JOE. That's so? Look out—jus' a minute. [BOLLINGER steps aside; JOE throws water out of the window.] There, ma—don't say I lost it now. [Throws soap back into dish-pan.] How'd she come to do that?
BOLLINGER. Too big a load, I guess—then the rain's cut up the road so, and she were stuck in a rut, an' all of 'em pryin' at her with fence-rails.
JOE. Somethin' had to come.
BOLLINGER. Ye-ep.
MRS. VERNON. [Sits at table and fans.] Won't you come in?
BOLLINGER. No, thank you. Too hot. Down to Louisiana on business—sweat clean through two paper collars. This'n's getting mealy. [He wipes his neck.
JOE. 'J-ever see such weather. [Punches LIZBETH to get out of rocker; sits in her place. LIZBETH goes to the melodeon stool.