JIM.
(Sitting down on the edge of porch with one foot on the step and lights a cigarette pretending not to be bothered.) Aw, I’ll get her when I want her. Let him treat her, but see who struts around that lake and down the railroad with her by and by.
(DAVE and DAISY emerge from the store, each holding a bottle of red soda pop and laughing together. As they start down the steps DAVE accidentally steps on JIM’s outstretched foot. JIM jumps up and pushes DAVE back, causing him to spill the red soda all over his white shirt front.)
JIM.
Stay off my foot, you big ox.
DAVE.
Well, you don’t have to wet me all up, do you, and me in company? Why don’t you put your damn foot in your pocket?
DAISY.
(Wiping DAVE’S shirt front with her handkerchief) Aw, ain’t that too bad.
JIM.
(To DAVE) Well, who’s shirt did I wet? It’s mine, anyhow, ain’t it?
DAVE.
(Belligerently) Well, if it’s your shirt, then you come take it off me. I’m tired of your lip.
JIM.
Well, I will.
DAVE.
Well, put your fist where you lip is. (Pushing DAISY aside.)
DAISY.
(Frightened) I want to go home. Now, don’t you all boys fight.