Beeler, with a glance of annoyance at his wife and Michaelis, sits down at the head of the table. Rhoda pushes Mrs. Beeler's chair to the foot of the table and stands feeding her, eating her own breakfast meanwhile.

Michaelis sits at Mrs. Beeler's right, Martha opposite. At Mr. Beeler's right is the Indian boy, at his left Annie's vacant chair. Martha beckons to Annie to come to the table, but the child, eyeing the strangers, refuses, taking a chair behind her mother by the mantelpiece. Mrs. Beeler speaks after the meal has progressed for some time in silence.

Mrs. Beeler.

Mat, you haven't said good morning to our guest.

Beeler.

Gruffly.

How are you?

He helps himself to meat and passes it to the others; the plate goes round the table. There is a constrained silence. Annie tugs at Rhoda's skirt, and asks in dumb show to have her breakfast given her. Rhoda fills the child's plate, with which she retreats to her place by the mantel.

Mrs. Beeler.

Why doesn't Annie come to the table?

She tries to look around. Rhoda whispers to Mrs. Beeler, who looks at her, puzzled.

Why doesn't Annie come?

Rhoda.

She's afraid.

Mrs. Beeler.

Afraid! What is she afraid of?

Rhoda.

You know how shy she is, before strangers.

Mrs. Beeler.

Annie, please come here! Annie!

The child refuses, pouting, and gazing at Michaelis.

Rhoda.

I wouldn't urge her. She doesn't want to come.

Martha.

Trenchantly.

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 out, from where she sits reclining.

The blessed sun! I never thought to see it rise again so beautiful.

Rhoda.

Looks at her aunt, puzzled and alarmed.

But, Auntie, there isn't any sun! It's—

She breaks off, seeing Michaelis place his finger on his lips as a signal for her to be silent. Mrs. Beeler turns to Rhoda, puzzled.

Mrs. Beeler.

There isn't any sun? Why—

Rhoda pretends not to hear. Mrs. Beeler turns to Michaelis.

What does she mean by saying there is no sun?

Michaelis.

She means she doesn't see it.

Mrs. Beeler.

Still puzzled.

But—you see it, don't you?

Michaelis.

I see the same sun that you see.

Mrs. Beeler.

Looks again at Rhoda, then dismisses her wonderment, and looks out at the window dreamily.

Another day—and to-morrow the best of all the days of the year.

Annie.

What day is to-morrow?

She leaves Michaelis and comes to her mother's side.

What day is to-morrow?

Mrs. Beeler.

With exultation in her voice.

My child, to-morrow is the most wonderful and the most beautiful day of all the year. The day when—all over the whole world—there is singing in the air, and everything rises into new life and happiness.

Annie.

Fretfully.

Mamma, I don't understand! What day is to-morrow?

Mrs. Beeler.

To-morrow is Easter.

Annie.

With sudden interest.

Easter! Can I have some eggs to color?

Mrs. Beeler.

Ask Aunt Martha.

Annie.

Singsong, as she skips out.

Eggs to color! Eggs to color!

Rhoda has meanwhile fetched a large tray from the cupboard and has been piling the dishes noiselessly upon it.

Rhoda.

Shall I wheel you in, Aunt Mary?

Mrs. Beeler.

Yes, please.

Rhoda wheels the chair toward the hall door, which Michaelis opens. Mrs. Beeler gazes at him as she passes.

Will you come in soon, and sit with me? There is so much that I want to hear.

Michaelis.

Whenever you are ready.

Mrs. Beeler.

I will ring my bell.

As they go out, Martha bustles in, gathers up the dish tray and is about to depart, with a vindictive look. At the door she turns, and jerks her head toward the boy.

Martha.

Is it against the law to work where he comes from?

Michaelis.

Abstractedly.

What?—No.

Martha.

Then he might as well do me some chores.