y._

Don't blame her!

MRS. BEELER.

_Gently reproving._

Martha!

MICHAELIS.

_Holding out his hand to Annie._

Won't you come here, my child?

_Annie approaches slowly, as if hypnotized._

You're not afraid of me, are you?

ANNIE.

_Shyly._

Not if you won't climb up the rope.

MICHAELIS.

_Puzzled._

Climb up what rope?

RHODA.

It's a story I was foolish enough to tell her.--Do eat something,
Auntie.

MRS. BEELER.

I'll drink a little more tea.

_Rhoda raises the cup to Mrs. Beeler's lips._

BEELER.

You can't live on tea, Mary.

MARTHA.

I guess she can live on tea better than on some things!

_With a resentful glance at Michaelis._

Some things that some folks seem to live on, and expect other folks to
live on.

_Michaelis looks up from Annie, who has been whispering in his ear.
Beeler nods at Martha in covert approval, as she takes up dishes
and goes into the kitchen._

MRS. BEELER.

_Leans forward across the table to Michaelis._

Don't mind my sister-in-law, Mr. Michaelis. It's her way. She means
nothing by it.

BEELER.

_Between gulps of coffee, as he finishes his meal._

Don't know as you've got any call to speak for Martha. She generally
means what she says, and I guess she means it now. And what's more, I
guess I do, too!

MRS. BEELER.

_Beseechingly._

Mat!

BEELER.

_Throws down his napkin and rises._

Very well. It's none of my business, I reckon, as long as it keeps
within reason.

_He puts on his cap and goes out through the kitchen._

ANNIE.

_To Michaelis, continuing the whispered conversation._

And if you do climb up the rope, do you promise to come down.

MICHAELIS.

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