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[Smiling darkly]: It must be pretty swell, being free and independent and beating it around the country just however you feel like, sleeping any place the notion hits you, no ties, work a day and bum a week, here and there, you and the—what do you call ’em? Wobblies? Huh! I never could see much in it myself. Calling in at farmhouses for a plate of cold stew and a slab of last Sunday’s pie. Down in the Santa Clara we used to keep a dog for those boys. I guess it’s a fine life if you like it. Only I never had much use for hoboes myself.

Joe ain’ no hobo, Amy!

Ain’t he?

[Completely discomfited]: I guess I’ll say good-night.

[Furiously shouting off stage]: You got uo business callin’ it sacramental, because it ain’got no sanction from the Church!

[ looks at the pair of them in unbelieving horror.