After a moment, MARY TRASK, a tired, emaciated woman, whose years equal her husband's, enters from the yard, carrying a pail of water and a lantern. She puts the pail on the bench and hangs the lantern above it; then crosses to the stove.
MARY. Ain't got wood 'nough fer breakfast, Thad.
THADDEUS. I'm too tired to go out now; wait till mornin'.
[Pause. MARY lays the fire in the stove.]
Did I tell ye that old man Reed saw three Southern troopers pass his house this mornin'?
MARY [takes coffee pot from stove, crosses to bench, fills pot with water]. I wish them soldiers would git out o' the neighborhood. Whenever I see 'em passin', I have t' steady myself 'gainst somethin' or I'd fall. I couldn't hardly breathe yesterday when the Southerners came after fodder. I'd die if they spoke t' me.
THADDEUS. Ye needn't be afraid of Northern soldiers.
MARY [puts coffee pot on stove]. I hate 'em all—Union or Southern. I can't make head or tail t' what all this fightin's 'bout. An' I don't care who wins, so long as they git through, an' them soldiers stop stealin' our corn an' potatoes.
THADDEUS. Ye can't hardly blame 'em if they're hungry, ken ye?
MARY. It ain't right that they should steal from us poor folk. [Lifts a huge gunny sack of potatoes from the table and begins setting the table for breakfast, getting knives, forks, spoons, plates, cups, and saucers—two of each—from the cupboard.] We have hard 'nough times t' make things meet now. I ain't set down onct to-day, 'cept fer meals; an' when I think o' the work I got t' do t'morrow, I ought t' been in bed hours ago.