MÍTRITCH. Dear me! How they've made the place smell! Drat 'em! They've been spilling the fine stuff. Even tobacco don't get rid of the smell! It keeps tickling one's nose so. Oh Lord! But it's bedtime, I guess. [Approaches the lamp to put it out]

NAN. [jumps up, and remains sitting up] Daddy dear, don't put it out!

MÍTRITCH. Not put it out? Why?

NAN. Didn't you hear them making a row in the yard? [Listens] D'you hear, there in the barn again now?

MÍTRITCH. What's that to you? I guess no one's asked you to mind! Lie down and sleep! And I'll turn down the light. [Turns down lamp]

NAN. Daddy darling! Don't put it right out; leave a little bit if only as big as a mouse's eye, else it's so frightening!

MÍTRITCH. [laughs] All right, all right. [Sits down by her] What's there to be afraid of?