(Gently.)
No, I insist. There has been a misunderstanding.
(Freda, tears imminent, makes nervous exclamation, and with both hands makes nervous gesture. Turns her back, walks rapidly to front, and throws herselj into easy chair, where she sits, face up, facing audience.)
MRS. EPPINGWELL
(To Sitka Charley.)
Those dogs you drove, Charley. Whose were they?
SITKA CHARLEY
(Hesitating, shifting weight from one leg to the other and back again, looking appealingly at back of chair in which Freda is seated.)
Me no know.