Yes, I promise to come down.
Mrs. Beeler.
Leans over her plate. The others bow their heads.
Bless this food to our use, and this day to our strength and our salvation.
Rhoda.
As they lift their heads.
Perhaps it will be light enough now without the lamp.
Michaelis, holding Annie's hand, rises, goes to the window, and rolls up the shades, while Rhoda extinguishes the lamp. The fog is still thick, and the light which enters is dull. Rhoda unpins the napkin from her aunt's breast, and wheels her back from the table. The boy crouches down by the grate, Indian fashion. Annie looks at him with shy, half-frightened interest.
Mrs. Beeler.
Gazing out, from where she sits reclining.