Going, Reba? Good night!
Reba
No, I'm not going. This is my last chance. You'll bar the window to-morrow.
Philo (determinedly)
Yes, I will.
(He bends closely over his work. She lies across the table opposite, watching his movements intently. He fumbles for a tool.)
Reba
The little one? Here it is!
(Hands him a small wire tool. He stares at her face so near his own, then takes the instrument and works confusedly. Jumps up and tries to reach a jar on one of the shelves. Reba leaps onto a chair, takes the jar and hands it down. He stares, and takes jar.)
Reba (as he returns to table)