As the curtain rises, PIKE, in his shirt-sleeves, his hands dirty, and wearing a workman's long blouse buttoned at neck, is bending over the engine, working and singing, at intervals whistling "The Blue and the Gray." His hat, duster, and cuffs are on the rear seat of the tonneau.
[Enter HORACE from the garden. He is flushed and angry; controls himself with an effort, trying to speak politely.]
HORACE
Mr. Pike!
PIKE
[apparently not hearing him, hammering at a bolt-head with a monkey-wrench and singing]
"One lies down at Appomattox—"
HORACE
[sharply]
Mr. Pike! Mr. Pike, I wish a word with you.