on'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.

THADDEUS. I'd help if I could, but it ain't my fault if the Lord see'd
fit t' lay me up, so I'm always ailin'. [Rises lazily.] Ye better try
an' take things easy t'morrow.

MARY. It's well 'nough t' say, but them apples got t' be picked an'
the rest o' the potatoes sorted. If I could sleep at night it'd be all
right, but with them soldiers 'bout, I can't.

THADDEUS [crosses to right; fondly handles his double-barrelled
shot-gun]. Jolly, wish I'd see a flock o' birds.

MARY [showing nervousness]. I'd rather go without than hear ye fire. I
wish ye didn't keep it loaded.

THADDEUS. Ye know I ain't got time t' stop an' load when I see the
birds. They don't wait fer ye. [Hangs gun on wall, drops into his chair,
dejectedly.] Them pigs has got to be butchered.

MARY. Wait till I git a chance t' go t' sister's. I can't stand it t'
hear 'em squeal.

THADDEUS [pulling off his boots, grunting meanwhile]. Best go soon then,
'cause they's fat as they'll ever be, an' there ain't no use in wastin'
feed on 'em. [Pause, rises.] Ain't ye most ready fer bed?

MARY. Go on up.

[THADDEUS takes candle in one hand, boots in other; moves toward
stairs.]

An', Thad, try not t' snore to-night.

THADDEUS [reaching the landing]. Hit me if I do. [Disappears from view.]

[MARY fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove; closes
the door back; takes the lantern from the wall, tries twice before she
succeeds in blowing it out. Puts the lantern on the table before the
cubby-hole. Drags herself up the stairs, pausing a moment on the top
step for breath before she disappears from sight. There is a silence.
Then the door back is opened a trifle and a man's hand is seen.
Cautiously the door is opened wide, and a young NORTHERN SOLDIER is
silhouetted on the threshold. He wears a dirty uniform and has a bloody
bandage tied about his head.