JIM. I see. Makin' some improvements. Looks bully, don't it?
JOE. Makes the dinin'-room bigger, an' gives more space in the kitchen. Saves steps for ma.
MRS. VERNON. [Approaching dog.] What kind of a poultice's that?
Flaxseed?
JIM. Gumbo.
MRS. VERNON. Gumbo?
BOLLINGER. That's what they call that soft mud the river leaves down there when it rises—gumbo.
JIM. It's only a cushion so the joltin' wouldn't hurt him. I just been with him to Clark's drug-store. [To front.] Clark said he wasn't a dog doctor.
JOE. Wouldn't 'tend to him, eh?
JIM. No—but I'll square it with him. He's up for coroner.
[Starts for shop—stops.] I told him that a man what'd see a little dumb animal suffer ought to be drummed out of town. Is Dave there?