A melody is heard, played upon a flute. It is small and fine, telling of grass and trees and the horizon. The curtain rises. Before us is the SALESMAN's house. We are aware of tower- ing, angular shapes behind it, surrounding it on all sides. Only the blue light of the sky falls upon the house and forestage; the sur- rounding area shows an angry glow of orange. As more light appears, we see a solid vault of apartment houses around the small, fragile- seeming home. An air of the dream clings to the place, a dream rising out of reality. The kitchen at centre seems actual enough, for there is a kitchen table with three chairs, and a refrigerator.
But no other fixtures are seen. At the back of the kitchen there is a draped entrance, which leads to the living-room. To the right of the kitchen, on a level raised two feet, is a bedroom furnished only with a brass bed- stead and a straight chair. On a shelf over the bed a silver athletic