they all go. [_Returns to wheel_. JIM _goes in house_.

KELLY. [_Coming down with_ TRAVERS.] You'd risk your neck for that
girl?

TRAVERS. I'm all right, Kelly. I'll get out to-night, but I've got to
see her first.

_They go up and exeunt._

BOLLINGER. Joe.

JOE. Yes.

BOLLINGER. [_Looking off carefully_.] I see Jim last night after we
left here. He says he's out of the race for Legislature.

JOE. That's what he says.

BOLLINGER. Why?

JOE. Well, what did _he_ say?

BOLLINGER. _Personal_ reasons.

JOE. Well, that goes--all right, Cal,--put her on now, an' let 'em get
out.

_Wheel is done._ CAL _takes it up to coach_.

BOLLINGER. Well, you're jes' as good as elected then, Joe.

JOE. Think so?

BOLLINGER. Sure. See here. [_Aside_.] Folks down in Louisiana thinks
Jim will be the nominee. I'm goin' down to-day to bet fifteen or
twenty dollars he won't, 'fore they hear of it.

JOE. No promises.

BOLLINGER. No, sir-ee--put up, or shut up--I've got twenty-two and a
half in my pocket--some of it's Clark's, but blamed little.

_Re-enter_ JIM _with pan of milk--kneels by dog and feeds it_.

SARBER. Now stand out of the way there.

BOLLINGER. Goin', Bill?

SARBER. Soon as we hitch.

_They take wagon out._ BOLLINGER, KELLY, TRAVERS _and_ SARBER _go out
with wagon_.

JOE. Come Cal--[CAL _turns_.] Hash! [CAL _exits_.] Breakfast, Jim.

JIM. Had it.

JOE. Come, set with us. [_Exit, followed by_ JIM.

_Enter_ TRAVERS.

TRAVERS. Kelly is right. I should go on that coach--but--I must see
Kate--they're at breakfast--if I only--yes, just a minute. [_Beckons_
KATE.] I wish that fellow wasn't here.

_Enter_ KATE.

KATE. Mr. Travers.

TRAVERS. I should leave on that coach.

KATE. Do I keep you?

TRAVERS. Yes.

KATE. Why?

TRAVERS. Because when I leave Bowling Green now, I shall never come
back.

KATE. You--you are jesting.

TRAVERS. In dead earnest. [_Slight clatter of dishes_--KATE _looks
off_.] Do you care for that man?

KATE. [_Coming down_.] I admire him. I think he is a good and a noble
character.

TRAVERS. Better than I am.

KATE. He may be,--but--I don't love him--

TRAVERS. Do you love me?

SARBER. [_Off_.] All ready; get in.

KATE. The stage is going. [_She turns_.

TRAVERS. Do you love me?

SARBER. Get in.

TRAVERS. Do you?

KATE. [_Pause_.] Yes.

TRAVERS. Then let them leave--[SARBER _calling_ "git ap"--_and a whip
cracks. We hear stage--voices go_.] Will you go