Plays. Susan Glaspell

to eat breakfast, moves a box of earth from the table.)

      HARRY: Just give me a hand, will you, Hattie?

      (They bring it to the open space and he and HATTIE arrange breakfast things, HATTIE with triumphant glances at the distressed ANTHONY)

      ANTHONY: (deciding he must act) Mr. Archer, this is not the place to eat breakfast!

      HARRY: Dead wrong, old boy. The place that has heat is the place to eat breakfast. (to HATTIE) Tell the other gentlemen—I heard Mr. Demming up, and Mr. Edgeworthy, if he appears, that as long as it is such a pleasant morning, we're having breakfast outside. To the conservatory for coffee.

      (HATTIE giggles, is leaving.)

      And let's see, have we got everything? (takes the one shaker, shakes a little pepper on his hand. Looks in vain for the other shaker) And tell Mr. Demming to bring the salt.

      ANTHONY: But Miss Claire will be very angry.

      HARRY: I am very angry. Did I choose to eat my breakfast at the other end of a blizzard?

      ANTHONY: (an exclamation of horror at the thermometer) The temperature is falling. I must report. (he punches the buzzer, takes up the phone) Miss Claire? It is Anthony. A terrible thing has happened. Mr. Archer—what? Yes, a terrible thing.—Yes, it is about Mr. Archer.—No—no, not dead. But here. He is here. Yes, he is well, he seems well, but he is eating his breakfast. Yes, he is having breakfast served out here—for himself, and the other gentlemen are to come too.—Well, he seemed to be annoyed because the heat had been turned off from the house. But the door keeps opening—this stormy wind blowing right over the plants. The temperature has already fallen.—Yes, yes. I thought you would want to come.