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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Rachel: A Play in Three Acts</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Angelina Weld Grimké</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 19, 2021 [eBook #65112]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Mary Glenn Krause, Susan Carr and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Library of Congress)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RACHEL: A PLAY IN THREE ACTS ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter illowp48" id="cover" style="max-width: 40.75em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1 class="pg-brk p10 pb10">RACHEL</h1> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="pfs240 pg-brk bold lsp2">RACHEL</p> - -<p class="pfs150 p2"><em>A Play in Three Acts</em></p> - -<p class="pfs150 p2">ANGELINA W. GRIMKE</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowe6_25" id="colophon"> - <img class="w100 p4 pb4" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="Colophon" /> -</div> - -<p class="pfs120">THE CORNHILL COMPANY<br /> -BOSTON</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="pfs90 p10">Copyright, 1920, by<br /> -<span class="fs120">THE CORNHILL COMPANY</span></p> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<p class="pfs90 p2 pb10"><em>All rights reserved, including that of translation into<br /> -foreign languages</em></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHARACTERS">CHARACTERS</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Mrs Mary Loving</span>, <em>a widow</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Rachel Loving</span>, <em>her daughter</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Thomas Loving</span>, <em>her son</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Jimmy Mason</span>, <em>a small boy</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">John Strong</span>, <em>a friend of the family</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>, <em>a caller</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Ethel Lane</span>, <em>her daughter</em>.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Mary</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Nancy</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Edith</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Jenny</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Louise</span>,<br /> -<span class="smcap">Martha</span>,<br /> -<span class="pad4"><em>little friends of Rachel</em>.</span></p> - -<p class="noindent p1"><span class="smcap">Time</span>: The first decade of the Twentieth Century.</p> - -<p class="noindent p1"><span class="smcap">Act I.</span> October 16th.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Act II.</span> October 16th, four years later.<br /> -<span class="smcap">Act III.</span> One week later.</p> - -<p class="noindent p1"><span class="smcap">Place</span>: A northern city. The living room in the small -apartment of Mrs. Loving.</p> - -<p class="center p1">All of the characters are colored.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p class="pfs135 pg-brk p10 pb10">ACT I</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> -<p class="pfs180 p2">RACHEL</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ACT_I">ACT I.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><em>The scene is a room scrupulously neat and clean and plainly -furnished. The walls are painted green, the woodwork, -white. In the rear at the left an open doorway leads -into a hall. Its bare, green wall and white baseboard -are all that can be seen of it. It leads into the other -rooms of the flat. In the centre of the rear wall of -the room is a window. It is shut. The white sash -curtains are pushed to right and left as far as they will -go. The green shade is rolled up to the top. Through -the window can be seen the red bricks of a house wall, -and the tops of a couple of trees moving now and then -in the wind. Within the window, and just below the -sill, is a shelf upon which are a few potted plants. -Between the window and the door is a bookcase full of -books and above it, hanging on the wall, a simply -framed, inexpensive copy of Millet’s “The Reapers.” -There is a run extending from the right center to just -below the right upper entrance. It is the vestibule of -the flat. Its open doorway faces the left wall. In the -right wall near the front is another window. Here the -sash curtains are drawn together and the green shade -is partly lowered. The window is up from the bottom. -Through it street noises can be heard. In front of this -window is an open, threaded sewing-machine. Some -frail, white fabric is lying upon it. There is a chair in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -front of the machine and at the machine’s left a small -table covered with a green cloth. In the rear of the -left wall and directly opposite to the entrance to the flat -is the doorway leading into the kitchenette, dishes -on shelves can be seen behind glass doors.</em></p> - -<p><em>In the center of the left wall is a fireplace with a grate in it -for coals; over this is a wooden mantel painted white. -In the center is a small clock. A pair of vases, green -and white in coloring, one at each end, complete the -ornaments. Over the mantel is a narrow mirror; and -over this, hanging on the wall, Burne-Jones’ “Golden -Stairs,” simply framed. Against the front end of the -left wall is an upright piano with a stool in front of it. -On top is music neatly piled. Hanging over the piano -is Raphael’s “Sistine Madonna.” In the center of the -floor is a green rug, and in the center of this, a rectangular -dining-room table, the long side facing front. It -is covered with a green table-cloth. Three dining-room -chairs are at the table, one at either end and one at the -rear facing front. Above the table is a chandelier with -four gas jets enclosed by glass globes. At the right -front center is a rather shabby arm-chair upholstered -in green.</em></p> -</div> - -<p class="pad2">Left and right from the spectator’s point of view.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><em>Before the sewing-machine, Mrs. Loving is seated. She -looks worried. She is sewing swiftly and deftly by -hand upon a waist in her lap. It is a white, beautiful -thing and she sews upon it delicately. It is about half-past -four in the afternoon; and the light is failing. -Mrs. Loving pauses in her sewing, rises and lets the -window-shade near her go up to the top. She pushes -the sash-curtains to either side, the corner of a red -brick house wall being thus brought into view. She -shivers slightly, then pushes the window down at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -the bottom and lowers it a trifle from the top. The -street noises become less distinct. She takes off her -thimble, rubs her hands gently, puts the thimble on -again, and looks at the clock on the mantel. She then -reseats herself, with her chair as close to the window as -possible and begins to sew. Presently a key is heard, -and the door opens and shuts noisily. Rachel comes -in from the vestibule. In her left arm she carries four -or five books strapped together; under her right, a roll -of music. Her hat is twisted over her left ear and her -hair is falling in tendrils about her face. She brings -into the room with her the spirit of abounding life, -health, joy, youth. Mrs. Loving pauses, needle in -hand, as soon as she hears the turning key and the -banging door. There is a smile on her face. For a -second, mother and daughter smile at each other. -Then Rachel throws her books upon the dining-room -table, places the music there also, but with care, and -rushing to her mother, gives her a bear hug and a kiss.</em></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear! dear, old Ma dear!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Look out for the needle, Rachel! The waist! -Oh, Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>On her knees and shaking her finger directly under -her mother’s nose.</em>): You old, old fraud! You know -you adore being hugged. I’ve a good mind....</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Now, Rachel, please! Besides, I know your -tricks. You think you can make me forget you are late. -What time is it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Looking at the clock and expressing surprise</em>): -Jiminy Xmas! (<em>Whistles</em>) Why, it’s five o’clock!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Severely</em>): Well!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Plaintively</em>): Now, Ma dear, you’re going to be -horrid and cross.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): Really, Rachel, that expression -is not particularly affecting, when your hat is over your -ear, and you look, with your hair over your eyes, exactly -like some one’s pet poodle. I wonder if you are ever -going to grow up and be ladylike.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! Ma dear, I hope not, not for the longest time, -two long, long years at least. I just want to be silly and -irresponsible, and have you to love and torment, and, of -course, Tom, too.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Smiling down at Rachel</em>): You’ll not make -me forget, young lady. Why are you late, Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, Ma dear, I’m your pet poodle, and my hat -is over my ear, and I’m late, for the loveliest reason.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Don’t be silly, Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: That may sound silly, but it isn’t. And please -don’t “Rachel” me so much. It was honestly one whole -hour ago when I opened the front door down stairs. I -know it was, because I heard the postman telling some one -it was four o’clock. Well, I climbed the first flight, and -was just starting up the second, when a little shrill voice -said, “’Lo!” I raised my eyes, and there, half-way up -the stairs, sitting in the middle of a step, was just the -clearest, cutest, darlingest little brown baby boy you ever -saw. “’Lo! yourself,” I said. “What are you doing, and -who are you anyway?” “I’m Jimmy; and I’m widing to -New York on the choo-choo tars.” As he looked entirely -too young to be going such a distance by himself, I asked -him if I might go too. For a minute or two he considered -the question and me very seriously, and then he said, -“’Es,” and made room for me on the step beside him. -We’ve been everywhere: New York, Chicago, Boston, -London, Paris and Oshkosh. I wish you could have heard -him say that last place. I suggested going there just to -hear him. Now, Ma dear, is it any wonder I am late? See -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>all the places we have been in just one “teeny, weeny” -hour? We would have been traveling yet, but his horrid, -little mother came out and called him in. They’re -in the flat below, the new people. But before he went, -Ma dear, he said the “cunningest” thing. He said, “Will -you tum out an’ p’ay wif me aden in two minutes?” I -nearly hugged him to death, and it’s a wonder my hat is -on my head at all. Hats are such unimportant nuisances -anyway!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Unimportant nuisances! What ridiculous -language you do use, Rachel! Well, I’m no prophet, but -I see very distinctly what is going to happen. This little -brown baby will be living here night and day. You’re not -happy unless some child is trailing along in your rear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Mischievously</em>): Now, Ma dear, whose a hypocrite? -What? I suppose you don’t like children! I can -tell you one thing, though, it won’t be my fault if he isn’t -here night and day. Oh, I wish he were all mine, every -bit of him! Ma dear, do you suppose that “she woman” -he calls mother would let him come up here until it is -time for him to go to bed? I’m going down there this -minute. (<em>Rises impetuously</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Rachel, for Heaven’s sake! No! I am entirely -too busy and tired today without being bothered -with a child romping around in here.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Reluctantly and a trifle petulantly</em>): Very well, -then. (<em>For several moments she watches her mother, -who has begun to sew again. The displeasure vanishes -from her face</em>). Ma dear!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Well.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Is there anything wrong today?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’m just tired, chickabiddy, that’s all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Moves over to the table. Mechanically takes off -her hat and coat and carries them out into the entryway<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -of the flat. She returns and goes to the looking glass -over the fireplace and tucks in the tendrils of her hair in -rather a preoccupied manner. The electric doorbell rings. -She returns to the speaking tube in the vestibule. Her -voice is heard answering</em>): Yes!—Yes!—No, I’m not -Mrs. Loving. She’s here, yes!—What? Oh! come right -up! (<em>Appearing in the doorway</em>). Ma dear, it’s some -man, who is coming for Mrs. Strong’s waist.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Pausing and looking at Rachel</em>): It is probably -her son. She said she would send for it this afternoon. -(<em>Rachel disappears. A door is heard opening -and closing. There is the sound of a man’s voice. Rachel -ushers in Mr. John Strong.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Bowing pleasantly to Mrs. Loving</em>): Mrs. Loving? -(<em>Mrs. Loving bows, puts down her sewing, rises and goes -toward Strong</em>). My name is Strong. My mother asked -me to come by and get her waist this afternoon. She -hoped it would be finished.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Mr. Strong, it is all ready. If you’ll sit -down a minute, I’ll wrap it up for you. (<em>She goes into -hallway leading to other rooms in flat</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Manifestly ill at ease at being left alone with a -stranger; attempting, however, to be the polite hostess</em>): -Do sit down, Mr. Strong. (<em>They both sit</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervously after a pause</em>): It’s a very pleasant -day, isn’t it, Mr. Strong?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Yes, very. (<em>He leans back composedly, his hat -on his knee, the faintest expression of amusement in his -eyes</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>After a pause</em>): It’s quite a climb up to our flat, -don’t you think?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Why, no! It didn’t strike me so. I’m not old -enough yet to mind stairs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: (<em>Nervously</em>): Oh! I didn’t mean that you are old! -Anyone can see you are quite young, that is, of course, not -too young, but,—(<em>Strong laughs quietly</em>). There! I -don’t blame you for laughing. I’m always clumsy just -like that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Calling from the other room</em>): Rachel, bring -me a needle and the sixty cotton, please.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: All right, Ma dear! (<em>Rummages for the cotton -in the machine drawer, and upsets several spools upon the -floor. To Strong</em>): You see! I can’t even get a spool of -cotton without spilling things all over the floor. (<em>Strong -smiles, Rachel picks up the spools and finally gets the cotton -and needle</em>). Excuse me! (<em>Goes out door leading -to other rooms. Strong left to himself, looks around -casually. The “Golden Stairs” interests him and the -“Sistine Madonna.”</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Reenters, evidently continuing her function of -hostess</em>): We were talking about the climb to our flat, -weren’t we? You see, when you’re poor, you have to -live in a top flat. There is always a compensation, though; -we have bully—I mean nice air, better light, a lovely -view, and nobody “thud-thudding” up and down over our -heads night and day. The people below have our “thud-thudding,” -and it must be something <em>awful</em>, especially -when Tom and I play “Ivanhoe” and have a tournament -up here. We’re entirely too old, but we still play. Ma -dear rather dreads the climb up three flights, so Tom and -I do all the errands. We don’t mind climbing the stairs, -particularly when we go up two or three at a time,—that -is—Tom still does. I can’t, Ma dear stopped me. -(<em>Sighs</em>). I’ve got to grow up it seems.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Evidently amused</em>): It is rather hard being a girl, -isn’t it?</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh, no! It’s not hard at all. That’s the trouble; -they won’t let me be a girl. I’d love to be.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Reentering with parcel. She smiles</em>): My -Chatterbox, I see, is entertaining you, Mr. Strong. I’m -sorry to have kept you waiting, but I forgot, I found, to -sew the ruching in the neck. I hope everything is satisfactory. -If it isn’t, I’ll be glad to make any changes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Who has risen upon her entrance</em>): Thank you, -Mrs. Loving, I’m sure everything is all right. (<em>He takes -the package and bows to her and Rachel. He moves -towards the vestibule, Mrs. Loving following him. She -passes through the doorway first. Before leaving, Strong -turns for a second and looks back quietly at Rachel. He -goes out too. Rachel returns to the mirror, looks at her -face for a second, and then begins to touch and pat her -hair lightly and delicately here and there. Mrs. Loving -returns</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Still at the glass</em>): He <em>was</em> rather nice, wasn’t he, -Ma dear?—for a man? (<em>Laughs</em>). I guess my reason’s -a vain one,—he let me do all the talking. (<em>Pauses</em>). -Strong? Strong? Ma dear, is his mother the little woman -with the sad, black eyes?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Resuming her sewing; sitting before the machine</em>). -Yes. I was rather curious, I confess, to see this -son of hers. The whole time I’m fitting her she talks of -nothing else. She worships him. (<em>Pauses</em>). It’s rather -a sad case, I believe. She is a widow. Her husband was -a doctor and left her a little money. She came up from -the South to educate this boy. Both of them worked -hard and the boy got through college. Three months he -hunted for work that a college man might expect to get. -You see he had the tremendous handicap of being colored. -As the two of them had to live, one day, without her -knowing it, he hired himself out as a waiter. He has been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -one now for two years. He is evidently goodness itself -to his mother.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Slowly and thoughtfully</em>): Just because he is -<em>colored</em>! (<em>Pauses</em>). We sing a song at school, I believe, -about “The land of the free and the home of the brave.” -What an amusing nation it is.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Watching Rachel anxiously</em>): Come, Rachel, -you haven’t time for “amusing nations.” Remember, you -haven’t practised any this afternoon. And put your books -away; don’t leave them on the table. You didn’t practise -any this morning either, did you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, Ma dear,—didn’t wake up in time. (<em>Goes to -the table and in an abstracted manner puts books on the -bookcase; returns to the table; picks up the roll of sheet -music she has brought home with her; brightens; impulsively</em>) -Ma dear, just listen to this lullaby. It’s the sweetest -thing. I was so “daffy” over it, one of the girls at -school lent it to me. (<em>She rushes to the piano with the -music and plays the accompaniment through softly and -then sings, still softly and with great expression, Jessie -Gaynor’s “Slumber Boat”</em>)—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Baby’s boat’s the silver moon;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Sailing in the sky,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sailing o’er the sea of sleep,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">While the clouds float by.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sail, baby, sail,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Out upon that sea,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Only don’t forget to sail</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Back again to me.</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span></p> </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Baby’s fishing for a dream,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Fishing near and far,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His line a silver moonbeam is,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">His bait a silver star.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sail, baby, sail, etc.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="pad2">Listen, Ma dear, right here. Isn’t it lovely? (<em>Plays and -sings very softly and slowly</em>):</p> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Only don’t forget to sail</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Back again to me.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="pad2">(<em>Pauses; in hushed tones</em>) Ma dear, it’s so beautiful—it—it -hurts.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Quietly</em>): Yes, dear, it is pretty.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>For several minutes watches her mother’s -profile from the piano stool. Her expression is rather -wistful</em>): Ma dear!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: What’s the matter?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Without turning</em>): Matter! What do you -mean?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I don’t know. I just <em>feel</em> something is not quite -right with you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’m only tired—that’s all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Perhaps. But—(<em>Watches her mother a moment -or two longer; shakes her head; turns back to the piano. -She is thoughtful; looks at her hands in her lap</em>). Ma -dear, wouldn’t it be nice if we could keep all the babies -in the world—always little babies? Then they’d be always -little, and cunning, and lovable; and they could never grow -up, then, and—and—be bad. I’m so sorry for mothers, -whose little babies—grow up—and—and—are bad.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Startled; controlling herself, looks at Rachel -anxiously, perplexedly. Rachel’s eyes are still on her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -hands. Attempting a light tone</em>): Come, Rachel, what -experience have you had with mothers whose babies have -grown up to be bad? You—you talk like an old, old -woman.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Without raising her eyes, quietly</em>): I know I’m -not old; but, just the same I know that is true. (<em>Softly</em>) -And I’m so sorry for the mothers.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>With a forced laugh</em>): Well, Miss Methuselah, -how do you happen to know all this? Mothers whose -babies grow up to be bad don’t, as a rule, parade their -faults before the world.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: That’s just it—that’s <em>how</em> you know. They don’t -talk at all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Involuntarily</em>): Oh! (<em>Ceases to sew; looks -at Rachel sharply; she is plainly worried. There is a long -silence. Presently Rachel raises her eyes to Raphael’s -“Madonna” over the piano. Her expression becomes -rapt; then, very softly, her eyes still on the picture, she -plays and sings Nevin’s “Mighty Lak A Rose”</em>)—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sweetest li’l feller,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Ev’rybody knows;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Dunno what to call him,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But he mighty lak’ a rose!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lookin’ at his Mammy</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Wid eyes so shiny blue,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Mek’ you think that heav’n</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Is comin’ clost ter you!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">W’en his dar a sleepin’</div> - <div class="verse indent2">In his li’l place</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Think I see de angels</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Lookin’ thro’ de lace.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">W’en de dark is fallin’,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">W’en de shadders creep,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span></div> - <div class="verse indent0">Den dey comes on tip-toe,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Ter kiss him in his sleep.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Sweetest li’l feller, etc.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">(<em>With head still raised, after she has finished, she closes -her eyes. Half to herself and slowly</em>) I think the loveliest -thing of all the lovely things in this world is just (<em>almost -in a whisper</em>) being a mother!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Turns and laughs</em>): Well, of all the startling -children, Rachel! I am getting to feel, when you’re -around as though I’m shut up with dynamite. What -next? (<em>Rachel rises, goes slowly to her mother, and -kneels down beside her. She does not touch her mother</em>). -Why so serious, chickabiddy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Slowly and quietly</em>): It is not kind to laugh at -sacred things. When you laughed, it was as though you -laughed—at God!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Startled</em>): Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Still quietly</em>): It’s true. It was the best in me -that said that—it was God! (<em>Pauses</em>). And, Ma dear, -if I believed that I should grow up and not be a mother, -I’d pray to die now. I’ve thought about it a lot, Ma dear, -and once I dreamed, and a voice said to me—oh! it was so -real—“Rachel, you are to be a mother to little children.” -Wasn’t that beautiful? Ever since I have known how -Mary felt at the “Annunciation.” (<em>Almost in a whisper</em>) -<em>God spoke to me through some one, and I believe.</em> And -it has explained so much to me. I know now why I just -can’t resist any child. I have to love it—it calls me—it—draws -me. I want to take care of it, wash it, dress it, live -for it. I want the feel of its little warm body against -me, its breath on my neck, its hands against my face.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -(<em>Pauses thoughtfully for a few moments</em>). Ma dear, -here’s something I don’t understand: I love the little black -and brown babies best of all. There is something about -them that—that—clutches at my heart. Why—why—should -they be—oh!—pathetic? I don’t understand. It’s -dim. More than the other babies, I feel that I must protect -them. They’re in danger, but from what? I don’t -know. I’ve tried so hard to understand, but I can’t. (<em>Her -face radiant and beautiful</em>). Ma dear, I think their white -teeth and the clear whites of their big black eyes and their -dimples everywhere—are—are (<em>Breaks off</em>). And, Ma -dear, because I love them best, I pray God every night to -give me, when I grow up, little black and brown babies—to -protect and guard. (<em>Wistfully</em>). Now, Ma dear, -don’t you see why you must never laugh at me again? -Dear, dear, Ma dear? (<em>Buries her head in her mother’s -lap and sobs</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>For a few seconds, sits as though dazed, -and then instinctively begins to caress the head in her lap. -To herself</em>) And I suppose my experience is every -mother’s. Sooner or later—of a sudden she finds her own -child a stranger to her. (<em>To Rachel, very tenderly</em>) Poor -little girl! Poor little chickabiddy!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Raising her head</em>): Why do you say, “Poor little -girl,” like that? I don’t understand. Why, Ma dear, I -never saw tears in your eyes before. Is it—is it—because -you know the things I do not understand? Oh! it -<em>is</em> that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Simply</em>): Yes, Rachel, and I cannot save you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear, you frighten me. Save me from <em>what</em>?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Just life, my little chickabiddy!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Is life so terrible? I had found it mostly beautiful. -How can life be terrible, when the world is full of little -children?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Very sadly</em>): Oh, Rachel! Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear, what have I said?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Forcing a smile</em>): Why, the truth, of course, -Rachel. Life is not terrible when there are little children—and -you—and Tom—and a roof over our heads—and -work—and food—and clothes—and sleep at night. -(<em>Pauses</em>). Rachel, I am not myself today. I’m tired. -Forget what I’ve said. Come, chickabiddy, wipe your -eyes and smile. That’s only an imitation smile, but it’s -better than none. Jump up now, and light the lamp for -me, will you? Tom’s late, isn’t he? I shall want you to -go, too, for the rolls and pie for supper.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Rises rather wearily and goes into the kitchenette. -While she is out of the room Mrs. Loving does not move. -She sits staring in front of her. The room for some -time has been growing dark. Mrs. Loving can just be -seen when Rachel reenters with the lamp. She places it -on the small table near her mother, adjusts it, so the light -falls on her mother’s work, and then lowers the window -shades at the windows. She still droops. Mrs. Loving, -while Rachel is in the room, is industrious. Rachel puts -on her hat and coat listlessly. She does not look in the -glass</em>). Where is the money, Ma dear? I’m ready.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Before you go, Rachel, just give a look at the -meat and see if it is cooking all right, will you, dearie?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Goes out into the kitchenette and presently returns</em>): -It’s all right, Ma dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>While Rachel is out of the room, she takes -her pocket-book out of the machine-drawer, opens it, takes -out money and gives it to Rachel upon her return</em>): A -dozen brown rolls, Rachel. Be sure they’re brown! And, -I guess,—an apple pie. As you and Tom never seem to -get enough apple pie, get the largest she has. And here is -a quarter. Get some candy—any kind <em>you</em> like, Chickabiddy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -Let’s have a party tonight, I feel extravagant. -Why, Rachel! why are you crying?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Nothing, dear Ma dear. I’ll be all right when I -get in the air. Goodbye! (<em>Rushes out of the flat. Mrs. -Loving sits idle. Presently the outer door of the flat -opens and shuts with a bang, and Tom appears. Mrs. -Loving begins to work as soon as she hears the banging -door</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: ’Lo, Ma! Where’s Sis,—out? The door’s off the -latch. (<em>Kisses his mother and hangs hat in entryway</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Greeting him with the same beautiful smile -with which she greeted Rachel</em>): Rachel just went after -the rolls and pie. She’ll be back in a few minutes. -You’re late, Tommy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: No, Ma—you forget—it’s pay day. (<em>With decided -shyness and awkwardness he hands her his wages</em>). Here, -Ma!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Proudly counting it</em>): But, Tommy, this is -every bit of it. You’ll need some.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Not yet! (<em>Constrainedly</em>) I only wish—. Say, Ma, -I hate to see you work so hard. (<em>Fiercely</em>) Some day—some -day—. (<em>Breaks off</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Son, I’m as proud as though you had given -me a million dollars.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Emphatically</em>): I may some day,—you see. (<em>Abruptly -changing the subject</em>): Gee! Ma, I’m hungry. -What’s for dinner? Smell’s good.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Lamb and dumplings and rice.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Gee! I’m glad I’m living—and a pie too?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Apple pie, Tommy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Say, Ma, don’t wake me up. And shall “muzzer’s” -own little boy set the table?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Thank you, Son.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Folds the green cloth, hangs it over the back of the -arm-chair, gets white table-cloth from kitchenette and -sets the table. The whole time he is whistling blithely a -popular air. He lights one of the gas jets over the table</em>): -Ma!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Son.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I made “squad” today,—I’m quarterback. Five other -fellows tried to make it. We’ll all have to buy new hats, -now.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>With surprise</em>): Buy new hats! Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Makes a ridiculous gesture to show that his head and -hers are both swelling</em>): Honest, Ma, I had to carry my -hat in my hand tonight,—couldn’t even get it to perch -aloft.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Smiling</em>): Well, I for one, Son, am not going -to say anything to make you more conceited.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You don’t <em>have</em> to say anything. Why, Ma, ever -since I told you, you can almost look down your own -back your head is so high. What? (<em>Mrs. Loving -laughs. The outer door of the flat opens and shuts. Rachel’s -voice is heard</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Without</em>): My! that was a “drefful” climb, wasn’t -it? Ma, I’ve got something here for you. (<i>Appears in -the doorway carrying packages and leading a little boy by -the hand. The little fellow is shy but smiling</i>). Hello, -Tommy! Here, take these things for me. This is Jimmy. -Isn’t he a dear? Come, Jimmy. (<em>Tom carries the packages -into the kitchenette. Rachel leads Jimmy to Mrs. -Loving</em>). Ma dear, this is my brown baby. I’m going -to take him right down stairs again. His mother is as -sweet as can be, and let me bring him up just to see you. -Jimmy, this is Ma dear. (<em>Mrs. Loving turns expectantly -to see the child. Standing before her, he raises his face -to hers with an engaging smile. Suddenly, without word<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -or warning, her body stiffens; her hands grip her sewing -convulsively; her eyes stare. She makes no sound</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Frightened</em>): Ma dear! What is the matter? Tom! -Quick! (<em>Tom reenters and goes to them</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Controlling herself with an effort and breathing -hard</em>): Nothing, dears, nothing. I must be—I am—nervous -tonight. (<em>With a forced smile</em>) How do-you-do, -Jimmy? Now, Rachel—perhaps—don’t you think—you -had better take him back to his mother? Good-night, -Jimmy! (<em>Eyes the child in a fascinated way the whole -time he is in the room. Rachel, very much perturbed, -takes the child out</em>). Tom, open that window, please! -There! That’s better! (<em>Still breathing deeply</em>). What -a fool I am!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Patting his mother awkwardly on the back</em>): You’re -all pegged out, that’s the trouble—working entirely too -hard. Can’t you stop for the night and go to bed right -after supper?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’ll see, Tommy dear. Now, I must look after -the supper.</p> - -<p>Tom: Huh! Well, I guess not. How old do you think -Rachel and I are anyway? I see; you think we’ll break -some of this be-au-tiful Hav-i-land china, we bought at -the “Five and Ten Cent Store.” (<em>To Rachel who has -just reentered wearing a puzzled and worried expression. -She is without hat and coat</em>). Say, Rachel, do you think -you’re old enough?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Old enough for what, Tommy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: To dish up the supper for Ma.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>With attempted sprightliness</em>): Ma dear thinks -nothing can go on in this little flat unless she does it. Let’s -show her a thing or two. (<em>They bring in the dinner. Mrs. -Loving with trembling hands tries to sew. Tom and Rachel -watch her covertly. Presently she gets up.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’ll be back in a minute, children. (<em>Goes out -the door that leads to the other rooms of the flat. Tom -and Rachel look at each other</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In a low voice keeping her eyes on the door</em>): -Why do you suppose she acted so strangely about Jimmy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Don’t know—nervous, I guess,—worn out. I wish—(<em>Breaks -off</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): It may be that; but she hasn’t been herself -this afternoon. I wonder—. Look out! Here she -comes!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>In a whisper</em>): Liven her up. (<em>Rachel nods. Mrs. -Loving reenters. Both rush to her and lead her to her -place at the right end of the table. She smiles and tries -to appear cheerful. They sit down, Tom opposite Mrs. -Loving and Rachel at the side facing front. Mrs. Loving -asks grace. Her voice trembles. She helps the children -bountifully, herself sparingly. Every once in a while she -stops eating and stares blankly into her plate; then, remembering -where she is suddenly, looks around with a -start and goes on eating. Tom and Rachel appear not to -notice her</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Ma’s “some” cook, isn’t she?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Is she! Delmonico’s isn’t in it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Presently</em>): Say, Rachel, do you remember that Reynolds -boy in the fourth year?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes. You mean the one who is flat-nosed, freckled, -and who squints and sneers?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Looking at Rachel admiringly</em>): The same.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Vehemently</em>): I hate him!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Rachel, you do use such violent language. -Why hate him?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I do—that’s all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Ma, if you saw him just once, you’d understand. No -one likes him. But, then, what can you expect? His<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -father’s in “quod” doing time for something, I don’t know -just what. One of the fellows says he has a real decent -mother, though. She never mentions him in any way, -shape or form, he says. Hard on her, isn’t it? Bet I’d -keep my head shut too;—you’d never get a yap out of -me. (<em>Rachel looks up quickly at her mother; Mrs. Loving -stiffens perceptibly, but keeps her eyes on her plate. -Rachel catches Tom’s eye; silently draws his attention to -their mother; and shakes her head warningly at him</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Continuing hastily and clumsily</em>): Well, anyway, he -called me “Nigger” today. If his face isn’t black, his -eye is.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Good! Oh! Why did you let the other one go?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Grinning</em>): I knew he said things behind my back; -but today he was hopping mad, because I made quarter-back. -He didn’t!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh, Tommy! How lovely! Ma dear, did you -hear that? (<em>Chants</em>) Our Tommy’s on the team! Our -Tommy’s on the team!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Trying not to appear pleased</em>): Ma dear, what did I -say about er—er “capital” enlargements?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Smiling</em>): You’re right, Son.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I hope you got that “capital,” Rachel. How’s that for -Latin knowledge? Eh?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I don’t think much of your knowledge, Tommy -dear; but (<em>continuing to chant</em>) Our Tommy’s on the -team! Our Tommy’s on the team! Our—(<em>Breaks -off</em>). I’ve a good mind to kiss you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Threateningly</em>): Don’t you dare.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Rising and going toward him</em>): I will! I will! I -will!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Rising, too, and dodging her</em>): No, you don’t, young -lady. (<em>A tremendous tussle and scuffle ensues</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): For Heaven’s sake! children, do -stop playing and eat your supper. (<em>They nod brightly -at each other behind her back and return smiling to the -table</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sticking out her tongue at Tom</em>): I will!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Mimicking her</em>): You won’t!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Children! (<em>They eat for a time in silence</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear, have you noticed Mary Shaw doesn’t -come here much these days?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Why, that’s so, she doesn’t. Have you two -quarreled?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, Ma dear. (<em>Uncomfortably</em>). I—think I -know the reason—but I don’t like to say, unless I’m certain.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, I know. I’ve seen her lately with those two -girls who have just come from the South. Twice she -bowed stiffly, and the last time made believe she didn’t see -me.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Then you think—? Oh! I was afraid it was that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Bitterly</em>): Yes—we’re “niggers”—that’s why.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Slowly and sadly</em>): Rachel, that’s one of the -things I can’t save you from. I worried considerably -about Mary, at first—you do take your friendships so -seriously. I knew exactly how it would end. (<em>Pauses</em>). -And then I saw that if Mary Shaw didn’t teach you the -lesson—some one else would. They don’t want you, -dearies, when you and they grow up. You may have -everything in your favor—but they don’t <em>dare</em> to like you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I know all that is generally true—but I had hoped -that Mary—(<em>Breaks off</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, I guess we can still go on living even if people -don’t speak to us. I’ll never bow to <em>her</em> again—that’s -certain.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: But, Son, that wouldn’t be polite, if she bowed -to you first.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Can’t help it. I guess I can be blind, too.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Wearily</em>): Well—perhaps you are right—I -don’t know. It’s the way I feel about it too—but—but -I wish my son always to be a <em>gentleman</em>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: If being a <em>gentleman</em> means not being a <em>man</em>—I don’t -wish to be one.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! well, perhaps we’re wrong about Mary—I -hope we are. (<em>Sighs</em>). Anyway, let’s forget it. Tommy -guess what I’ve got. (<em>Rises, goes out into entryway -swiftly, and returns holding up a small bag</em>). Ma dear -treated. Guess!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Ma, you’re a thoroughbred. Well, let’s see—it’s—a -dozen dill pickles?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! stop fooling.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I’m not. Tripe?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Silly!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Hog’s jowl?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ugh! Give it up—quarter-back.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Pig’s feet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In pretended disgust</em>): Oh! Ma dear—send him -from the table. It’s CANDY!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Candy? Funny, I never thought of that! And I was -just about to say some nice, delicious chitlings. Candy! -Well! Well! (<em>Rachel disdainfully carries the candy to -her mother, returns to her own seat with the bag and helps -herself. She ignores Tom</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>In an aggrieved voice</em>): You see, Ma, how she treats -me. (<em>In affected tones</em>) I have a good mind, young lady -to punish you, er—er corporeally speaking. Tut! Tut! -I have a mind to master thee—I mean—you. Methinks -that if I should advance upon you, apply, perchance, two -or three digits to your glossy locks and extract—aha!—say<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -a strand—you would no more defy me. (<em>He starts -to rise</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Quickly and sharply</em>): Rachel! give Tom the -candy and stop playing. (<em>Rachel obeys. They eat in -silence. The old depression returns. When the candy -is all gone, Rachel pushes her chair back, and is just about -to rise, when her mother, who is very evidently nerving -herself for something, stops her</em>). Just a moment, Rachel. -(<em>Pauses, continuing slowly and very seriously</em>). -Tom and Rachel! I have been trying to make up my mind -for some time whether a certain thing is my duty or not. -Today—I have decided it is. You are old enough, -now,—and I see you ought to be told. Do you know -what day this is? (<em>Both Tom and Rachel have been -watching their mother intently</em>). It’s the sixteenth of -October. Does that mean anything to either of you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> and <span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Wonderingly</em>): No.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Looking at both of them thoughtfully, half -to herself</em>): No—I don’t know why it should. (<em>Slowly</em>) -Ten years ago—today—your father and your half-brother -died.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I do remember, now, that you told us it was in October.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>With a sigh</em>): That explains—today.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Rachel. (<em>Pauses</em>). Do you know—how -they—died?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> and <span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Why, no.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Did it ever strike you as strange—that they—died—the -same day?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: We often wondered, Tom and I; but—but somehow -we never quite dared to ask you. You—you—always -refused to talk about them, you know, Ma dear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Did you think—that—perhaps—the reason—I—I—wouldn’t -talk about them—was—because, because—I -was ashamed—of them? (<em>Tom and Rachel look uncomfortable</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, Ma dear—we—we—did—wonder.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Questioningly</em>): And you thought?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Haltingly</em>): W-e-l-l—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Sharply</em>): Yes?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Oh! come, now, Rachel, you know we haven’t -bothered about it at all. Why should we? We’ve been -happy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: But when you have thought—you’ve been -ashamed? (<em>Intensely</em>) Have you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Now, Ma, aren’t you making a lot out of nothing?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): No. (<em>Half to herself</em>) You evade—both—of -you. You <em>have</em> been ashamed. And I never -dreamed until today you <em>could</em> take it this way. How -blind—how almost criminally blind, I have been.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Tremulously</em>): Oh! Ma dear, don’t! (<em>Tom and -Rachel watch their mother anxiously and uncomfortably. -Mrs. Loving is very evidently nerving herself for something</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Very slowly, with restrained emotion</em>): Tom—and -Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Ma!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear! (<em>A tense, breathless pause</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Bracing herself</em>): They—they—were -lynched!!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> and <span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In a whisper</em>): Lynched!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Slowly, laboring under strong but restrained -emotion</em>): Yes—by Christian people—in a Christian land. -We found out afterwards they were all church members -in good standing—the best people. (<em>A silence</em>). Your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -father was a man among men. He was a fanatic. He -was a Saint!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Breathing with difficulty</em>): Ma—can you—will you—tell -us—about it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I believe it to be my duty. (<em>A silence</em>). -When I married your father I was a widow. My little -George was seven years old. From the very beginning he -worshiped your father. He followed him around—just -like a little dog. All children were like that with him. I -myself have never seen anybody like him. “Big” seems -to fit him better than any other word. He was big-bodied—big-souled. -His loves were big and his -hates. You can imagine, then, how the wrongs of the -Negro—ate into his soul. (<em>Pauses</em>). He was utterly -fearless. (<em>A silence</em>). He edited and owned, for several -years, a small negro paper. In it he said a great many -daring things. I used to plead with him to be more careful. -I was always afraid for him. For a long time, nothing -happened—he was too important to the community. -And then—one night—ten years ago—a mob made up of -the respectable people in the town lynched an innocent -black man—and what was worse—they knew him to be -innocent. A white man was guilty. I never saw your -father so wrought up over anything: he couldn’t eat; he -couldn’t sleep; he brooded night and day over it. And -then—realizing fully the great risk he was running, although -I begged him not to—and all his friends also—he -deliberately and calmly went to work and published a -most terrific denunciation of that mob. The old prophets -in the Bible were not more terrible than he. A day or -two later, he received an anonymous letter, very evidently -from an educated man, calling upon him to retract his -words in the next issue. If he refused his life was -threatened. The next week’s issue contained an arraignment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -as frightful, if not more so, than the previous one. -Each word was white-hot, searing. That night, some -dozen masked men came to our house.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Moaning</em>): Oh, Ma dear! Ma dear!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Too absorbed to hear</em>): We were not asleep—your -father and I. They broke down the front door -and made their way to our bedroom. Your father kissed -me—and took up his revolver. It was always loaded. -They broke down the door. (<em>A silence. She continues -slowly and quietly</em>) I tried to shut my eyes—I could not. -Four masked men fell—they did not move any more—after -a little. (<em>Pauses</em>). Your father was finally overpowered -and dragged out. In the hall—my little seventeen-year-old -George tried to rescue him. Your father -begged him not to interfere. He paid no attention. It -ended in their dragging them both out. (<em>Pauses</em>). My -little George—was—a man! (<em>Controls herself with an -effort</em>). He never made an outcry. His last words to -me were: “Ma, I am glad to go with Father.” I could -only nod to him. (<em>Pauses</em>). While they were dragging -them down the steps, I crept into the room where you -were. You were both asleep. Rachel, I remember, was -smiling. I knelt down by you—and covered my ears with -my hands—and waited. I could not pray—I couldn’t for -a long time—afterwards. (<em>A silence</em>). It was very still -when I finally uncovered my ears. The only sounds were -the faint rustle of leaves and the “tap-tapping of the twig -of a tree” against the window. I hear it still—sometimes -in my dreams. <em>It was the tree—where they were.</em> (<em>A -silence</em>). While I had knelt there waiting—I had made -up my mind what to do. I dressed myself and then I -woke you both up and dressed you. (<em>Pauses</em>). We set -forth. It was a black, still night. Alternately dragging -you along and carrying you—I walked five miles to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -house of some friends. They took us in, and we remained -there until I had seen my dead laid comfortably at rest. -They lent me money to come North—I couldn’t bring you -up—in the South. (<em>A silence</em>). Always remember this: -There never lived anywhere—or at any time—any two -whiter or more beautiful souls. God gave me one for a -husband and one for a son and I am proud. (<em>Brokenly</em>) -You—must—be—proud—too. (<em>A long silence. Mrs. -Loving bows her head in her hands. Tom controls himself -with an effort. Rachel creeps softly to her mother, -kneels beside her and lifts the hem of her dress to her -lips. She does not dare touch her. She adores her with -her eyes</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Presently raising her head and glancing at -the clock</em>): Tom, it’s time, now, for you to go to work. -Rachel and I will finish up here.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Still laboring under great emotion goes out into the -entryway and comes back and stands in the doorway with -his cap. He twirls it around and around nervously</em>): I -want you to know, Ma, before I go—how—how proud I -am. Why, I didn’t believe two people could be like that—and -live. And then to find out that one—was your -own father—and one—your own brother.—It’s wonderful! -I’m—not much yet, Ma, but—I’ve—I’ve just got to -be something now. (<em>Breaks off</em>). (<em>His face becomes -distorted with passion and hatred</em>). When I think—when -I think—of those devils with white skins—living -somewhere today—living and happy—I—see—red! I—I—good-bye! -(<em>Rushes out, the door bangs</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Half to herself</em>): I was afraid—of just that. -I wonder—if I did the wise thing—after all.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>With a gesture infinitely tender, puts her arms -around her mother</em>): Yes, Ma dear, you did. And, hereafter, -Tom and I share and share alike with you. To<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -think, Ma dear, of ten years of this—all alone. It’s -wicked! (<em>A short silence</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: And, Rachel, about that dear, little boy, -Jimmy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Now, Ma dear, tell me tomorrow. You’ve stood -enough for one day.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: No, it’s better over and done with—all at -once. If I had seen that dear child suddenly any other -day than this—I might have borne it better. When he -lifted his little face to me—and smiled—for a moment—I -thought it was the end—of all things. Rachel, he is the -image of my boy—my George!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: And, Rachel—it will hurt—to see him again.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I understand, Ma dear. (<em>A silence. Suddenly</em>) -Ma dear, I am beginning to see—to understand—so much. -(<em>Slowly and thoughtfully</em>) Ten years ago, all things being -equal, Jimmy might have been—George? Isn’t that so?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Why—yes, if I understand you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I guess that doesn’t sound very clear. It’s only -getting clear to me, little by little. Do you mind my -thinking out loud to you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: No, chickabiddy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: If Jimmy went South now—and grew up—he -might be—a George?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Then, the South is full of tens, hundreds, thousands -of little boys, who, one day may be—and some of -them with certainty—Georges?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: And the little babies, the dear, little, helpless -babies, being born today—now—and those who will be, -tomorrow, and all the tomorrows to come—have <em>that</em> -sooner or later to look forward to? They will laugh and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -play and sing and be happy and grow up, perhaps, and be -ambitious—just for <em>that</em>?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Then, everywhere, everywhere, throughout the -South, there are hundreds of dark mothers who live in -fear, terrible, suffocating fear, whose rest by night is -broken, and whose joy by day in their babies on their -hearts is three parts—pain. Oh, I know this is true—for -this is the way I should feel, if I were little Jimmy’s -mother. How horrible! Why—it would be more merciful—to -strangle the little things at birth. And so this -nation—this white Christian nation—has deliberately set -its curse upon the most beautiful—the most holy thing in -life—motherhood! Why—it—makes—you doubt—God!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Oh, hush! little girl. Hush!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Suddenly with a great cry</em>): Why, Ma dear, <em>you -know. You were a mother, George’s mother.</em> So, this is -what it means. Oh, Ma dear! Ma dear! (<em>Faints in -her mother’s arms</em>).</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pfs135 pg-brk p10 pb10">ACT II</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ACT_II">ACT II.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <em>October sixteenth, four years later; seven o’clock in -the morning</em>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>: <em>The same room. There have been very evident -improvements made. The room is not so bare; it is -cosier. On the shelf, before each window, are potted -red geraniums. At the windows are green denim drapery -curtains covering fresh white dotted Swiss inner -curtains. At each doorway are green denim portieres. -On the wall between the kitchenette and the entrance -to the outer rooms of the flat, a new picture is hanging, -Millet’s “The Man With the Hoe.” Hanging against -the side of the run that faces front is Watts’s “Hope.” -There is another easy-chair at the left front. The table -in the center is covered with a white table-cloth. A -small asparagus fern is in the middle of this. When -the curtain rises there is the clatter of dishes in the -kitchenette. Presently Rachel enters with dishes and -silver in her hands. She is clad in a bungalow apron. -She is noticeably all of four years older. She frowns -as she sets the table. There is a set expression about -the mouth. A child’s voice is heard from the rooms -within.</em></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Still unseen</em>): Ma Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Pauses and smiles</em>): What is it, Jimmy boy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Appearing in rear doorway, half-dressed, breathless -and tremendously excited over something. Rushes -toward Rachel</em>): Three guesses! Three guesses! Ma -Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Her whole face softening</em>): Well, let’s see—maybe -there is a circus in town.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: No siree! (<em>In a sing-song</em>) You’re not right! -You’re not right!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, maybe Ma Loving’s going to take you -somewhere.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: No! (<em>Vigorously shaking his head</em>) It’s—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Interrupting quickly</em>): You said I could have three -guesses, honey. I’ve only had two.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I thought you had three. How many are three?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Counting on her fingers</em>): One! Two! Three! -I’ve only had one! two!—See? Perhaps Uncle Tom -is going to give you some candy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Dancing up and down</em>): No! No! No! -(<em>Catches his breath</em>) I leaned over the bath-tub, way -over, and got hold of the chain with the button on the -end, and dropped it into the little round place in the -bottom. And then I runned lots and lots of water in the -tub and climbed over and fell in splash! just like a big -stone; (<em>Loudly</em>) and took a bath all by myself alone.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Laughing and hugging him</em>): All by yourself, -honey? You ran the water, too, boy, not “runned” it. -What I want to know is, where was Ma Loving all this -time?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I stole in “creepy-creep” and looked at Ma Loving -and she was awful fast asleep. (<em>Proudly</em>) Ma Rachel, -I’m a “nawful,” big boy now, aren’t I? I are almost a -man, aren’t I?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! Boy, I’m getting tired of correcting you—“I -am almost a man, am I not?” Jimmy, boy, what will Ma -Rachel do, if you grow up? Why, I won’t have a little -boy any more! Honey, you mustn’t grow up, do you -hear? You mustn’t.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Oh, yes, I must; and you’ll have me just the same, -Ma Rachel. I’m going to be a policeman and make lots -of money for you and Ma Loving and Uncle Tom, and -I’m going to buy you some trains and fire-engines, and -little, cunning ponies, and some rabbits, and some great -’normous banks full of money—lots of it. And then, we -are going to live in a great, big castle and eat lots of ice -cream, all the time, and drink lots and lots of nice pink -lemonade.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: What a generous Jimmy boy! (<em>Hugs him</em>). Before -I give you “morning kiss,” I must see how clean my -boy is. (<em>Inspects teeth, ears and neck</em>). Jimmy, you’re -sweet and clean enough to eat. (<em>Kisses him; he tries to -strangle her with hugs</em>). Now the hands. Oh! Jimmy, -look at those nails! Oh! Jimmy! (<em>Jimmy wriggles and -tries to get his hands away</em>). Honey, get my file off of -my bureau and go to Ma Loving; she must be awake by -this time. Why, honey, what’s the matter with your -feet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I don’t know. I thought they looked kind of -queer, myself. What’s the matter with them?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): You have your shoes on the wrong -feet.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Bursts out laughing</em>): Isn’t that most ’normously -funny? I’m a case, aren’t I—(<em>pauses thoughtfully</em>) I -mean—am I not, Ma Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes, honey, a great big case of molasses. Come, -you must hurry now, and get dressed. You don’t want -to be late for school, you know.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Ma Rachel! (<em>Shyly</em>) I—I have been making something -for you all the morning—ever since I waked up. -It’s awful nice. It’s—stoop down, Ma Rachel, please—a -great, big (<em>puts both arms about her neck and gives -her a noisy kiss. Rachel kisses him in return, then pushes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -his head back. For a long moment they look at each -other; and, then, laughing joyously, he makes believe he -is a horse, and goes prancing out of the room. Rachel, -with a softer, gentler expression, continues setting the -table. Presently, Mrs. Loving, bent and worn-looking, -appears in the doorway in the rear. She limps a trifle.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Good morning, dearie. How’s my little girl, -this morning? (<em>Looks around the room</em>). Why, where’s -Tom? I was certain I heard him running the water in -the tub, sometime ago. (<em>Limps into the room</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): Tom isn’t up yet. Have you seen -Jimmy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Jimmy? No. I didn’t know he was awake, -even.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Going to her mother and kissing her</em>): Well! -What do you think of that! I sent the young gentleman -to you, a few minutes ago, for help with his nails. He -is very much grown up this morning, so I suppose that -explains why he didn’t come to you. Yesterday, all day, -you know, he was a puppy. No one knows what he will -be by tomorrow. All of this, Ma dear, is preliminary to -telling you that Jimmy boy has stolen a march on you, -this morning.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Stolen a march! How?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: It appears that he took his bath all by himself -and, as a result, he is so conceited, peacocks aren’t in it -with him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I heard the water running and thought, of -course, it was Tom. Why, the little rascal! I must go -and see how he has left things. I was just about to wake -him up.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Rheumatism’s not much better this morning, Ma -dear. (<em>Confronting her mother</em>). Tell me the truth, now, -did you or did you not try that liniment I bought you yesterday?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Guiltily</em>): Well, Rachel, you see—it was this -way, I was—I was so tired, last night,—I—I really forgot -it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I thought as much. Shame on you!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: As soon as I walk around a bit it will be all -right. It always is. It’s bad, when I first get up—that’s -all. I’ll be spry enough in a few minutes. (<em>Limps to -the door; pauses</em>) Rachel, I don’t know why the thought -should strike me, but how very strangely things turn out. -If any one had told me four years ago that Jimmy would -be living with us, I should have laughed at him. Then it -hurt to see him; now it would hurt not to. (<em>Softly</em>) -Rachel, sometimes—I wonder—if, perhaps, God—hasn’t -relented a little—and given me back my boy,—my George.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: The whole thing was strange, wasn’t it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, God’s ways are strange and often very -beautiful; perhaps all would be beautiful—if we only understood.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: God’s ways are certainly very mysterious. Why, -of all the people in this apartment-house, should Jimmy’s -father and mother be the only two to take the smallpox, -and the only two to die. It’s queer!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: It doesn’t seem like two years ago, does it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Two years, Ma dear! Why it’s three the third of -January.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Are you sure, Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Gently</em>): I don’t believe I could ever forget that, -Ma dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: No, I suppose not. That is one of the differences -between youth and old age—youth attaches tremendous -importance to dates,—old age does not.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Quickly</em>): Ma dear, don’t talk like that. You’re -not old.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Oh! yes, I am, dearie. It’s sixty long years -since I was born; and I am much older than that, much -older.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Please, Ma dear, please!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Smiling</em>): Very well, dearie, I won’t say it -any more. (<em>A pause</em>). By the way,—how—does Tom -strike you, these days?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Avoiding her mother’s eye</em>): The same old, bantering, -cheerful Tom. Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I know he’s all that, dearie, but it isn’t possible -for him to be really cheerful. (<em>Pauses; goes on -wistfully</em>) When you are little, we mothers can kiss away -all the trouble, but when you grow up—and go out—into -the world—and get hurt—we are helpless. There is nothing -we can do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Don’t worry about Tom, Ma dear, he’s game. He -doesn’t show the white feather.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Did you see him, when he came in, last night?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Had he had—any luck?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No. (<em>Firmly</em>) Ma dear, we may as well face it—it’s -hopeless, I’m afraid.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’m afraid—you are right. (<em>Shakes her head -sadly</em>) Well, I’ll go and see how Jimmy has left things -and wake up Tom, if he isn’t awake yet. It’s the waking -up in the mornings that’s hard. (<em>Goes limping out rear -door. Rachel frowns as she continues going back and -forth between the kitchenette and the table. Presently -Tom appears in the door at the rear. He watches Rachel -several moments before he speaks or enters. Rachel looks -grim enough</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Entering and smiling</em>): Good-morning, “Merry Sunshine”! -Have you, perhaps, been taking a—er—prolonged -draught of that very delightful beverage—vinegar?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -(<em>Rachel, with a knife in her hand, looks up unsmiling. -In pretended fright</em>) I take it all back, I’m sure. -May I request, humbly, that before I press my chaste, -morning salute upon your forbidding lips, that you—that -you—that you—er—in some way rid yourself of that—er—knife? -(<em>Bows as Rachel puts it down</em>). I thank -you. (<em>He comes to her and tips her head back; gently</em>) -What’s the matter with my little Sis?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Her face softening</em>): Tommy dear, don’t mind me. -I’m getting wicked, I guess. At present I feel just like—— like -curdled milk. Once upon a time, I used to have -quite a nice disposition, didn’t I, Tommy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Smiling</em>): Did you, indeed! I’m not going to flatter -you. Well, brace yourself, old lady. Ready, One! Two! -Three! Go! (<em>Kisses her, then puts his hands on either -side of her face, and raising it, looks down into it</em>). -You’re a pretty, decent little sister, Sis, that’s what T. -Loving thinks about it; and he knows a thing or two. -(<em>Abruptly looking around</em>) Has the paper come yet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I haven’t looked, it must have, though, by this -time. (<em>Tom, hands in his pockets, goes into the vestibule. -He whistles. The outer door opens and closes, and presently -he saunters back, newspaper in hand. He lounges -carelessly in the arm-chair and looks at Rachel</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: May T. Loving be of any service to you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Service! How?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: May he run, say, any errands, set the table, cook the -breakfast? Anything?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Watching the lazy figure</em>): You look like working.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Grinning</em>): It’s at least—polite—to offer.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: You can’t do anything; I don’t trust you to do it -right. You may just sit there, and read your paper—and -try to behave yourself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>In affectedly meek tones</em>): Thank you, ma’am. -(<em>Opens the paper, but does not read. Jimmy presently -enters riding around the table on a cane. Rachel peeps in -from the kitchenette and smiles. Tom puts down his -paper</em>). ’Lo! Big Fellow, what’s this?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Disgustedly</em>): How can I hear? I’m miles and -miles away yet. (<em>Prances around and around the room; -presently stops near Tom, attempting a gruff voice</em>) Good-morning!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Lowering his paper again</em>): Bless my stars! Who’s -this? Well, if it isn’t Mr. Mason! How—do—you—do, Mr. -Mason? That’s a beautiful horse you have there. He -limps a trifle in his left, hind, front foot, though.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: He doesn’t!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: He does!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Fiercely</em>): He doesn’t!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>As fiercely</em>): I say he does!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Appearing in the doorway in the rear</em>): For -Heaven’s sake! What is this? Good-morning, Tommy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Rising and going toward his mother, Jimmy following -astride of the cane in his rear</em>): Good-morning, Ma. -(<em>Kisses her; lays his head on her shoulder and makes -believe he is crying; in a high falsetto</em>) Ma! Jimmy says -his horse doesn’t limp in his hind, front right leg, and I -say he does.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Throws his cane aside, rolls on the floor and kicks -up his heels. He roars with laughter</em>): I think Uncle -Tom is funnier than any clown in the “Kickus.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Raising his head and looking down at Jimmy; Rachel -stands in the kitchenette doorway</em>): In the <em>what</em>, Jimmy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: In the “kickus,” of course.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: “Kickus”! “Kickus”! Oh, Lordy! (<em>Tom and Rachel -shriek with laughter; Mrs. Loving looks amused; -Jimmy, very much affronted, gets upon his feet again.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -Tom leans over and swings Jimmy high in the air</em>). Boy, -you’ll be the death of me yet. Circus, son! Circus!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>From on high, soberly and with injured dignity</em>): -Well, I thinks “Kickus” and circus are very much alike. -Please put me down.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>From the doorway</em>): We laugh, honey, because -we love you so much.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Somewhat mollified, to Tom</em>): Is that so, Uncle -Tom?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Surest thing in the world! (<em>Severely</em>) Come, get -down, young man. Don’t you know you’ll wear my arms -out? Besides, there is something in my lower vest pocket, -that’s just dying to come to you. Get down, I say.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): How can I get down? (<em>Wriggles -around</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: How should I know? Just get down, of course. -(<em>Very suddenly puts Jimmy down on his feet. Jimmy -tries to climb up over him</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Please sit down, Uncle Tom?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>In feigned surprise</em>): Sit down! What for?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Pummeling him with his little fists, loudly</em>): Why, -you said there was something for me in your pocket.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Sitting down</em>): So I did. How forgetful I am!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Finding a bright, shiny penny, shrieks</em>): Oh! Oh! -Oh! (<em>Climbs up and kisses Tom noisily</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Why, Jimmy! You embarrass me. My! My!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: What is ’barrass?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You make me blush.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: What’s that?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Come, come, children! Rachel has the -breakfast on the table. (<em>Tom sits in Jimmy’s place and -Jimmy tries to drag him out</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: What’s the matter, now?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: You’re in <em>my</em> place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, can’t you sit in mine?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Wistfully</em>): I wants to sit by my Ma Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, so do I.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Tom, stop teasing Jimmy. Honey, don’t you let -him bother you; ask him please prettily.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Please prettily, Uncle Tom.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Oh! well then. (<em>Gets up and takes his own place. -They sit as they did in Act I. only Jimmy sits between -Tom, at the end, and Rachel</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Loudly</em>): Oh, goody! goody! goody! We’ve got -sau-sa-ges.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Sh!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Silenced for a few moments; Rachel ties a big -napkin around his neck, and prepares his breakfast. He -breaks forth again suddenly and excitedly</em>): Uncle Tom!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Sir?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I took a bath this morning, all by myself alone, in -the bath-tub, and I ranned, no (<em>Doubtfully</em>) I runned, I -think—the water all in it, and got in it all by myself; and -Ma Loving thought it was you; but it was <em>me</em>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>In feignedly severe tones</em>): See here, young man, this -won’t do. Don’t you know I’m the only one who is -allowed to do that here? It’s a perfect waste of water—that’s -what it is.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Undaunted</em>): Oh! no, you’re not the only one, -’cause Ma Loving and Ma Rachel and me—alls takes -baths every single morning. So, there!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You ’barrass me. (<em>Jimmy opens his mouth to ask a -question; Tom quickly</em>) Young gentleman, your mouth is -open. Close it, sir; close it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Tom, you’re as big a child exactly as Jimmy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Bowing to right and left</em>): You compliment me. I -thank you, I am sure.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>They finish in silence.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Sighing with contentment</em>): I’m through, Ma -Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Jimmy, you’re a big boy, now, aren’t you? -(<em>Jimmy nods his head vigorously and looks proud.</em>) I -wonder if you’re big enough to wash your own hands, -this morning?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Shrilly</em>): Yes, ma’am.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Well, if they’re beautifully clean, I’ll give you -another penny.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Excitedly to Rachel</em>): Please untie my napkin, Ma -Rachel! (<em>Rachel does so.</em>) “Excoose” me, please.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving and Rachel</span>: Certainly. (<em>Jimmy climbs -down and rushes out at the rear doorway.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Solemnly and slowly; breaking the silence</em>): -Rachel, do you know what day this is?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Looking at her plate; slowly</em>): Yes, Ma dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Tom.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Grimly and slowly</em>): Yes, Ma.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>A silence.</em>)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Impressively</em>): We must never—as long—as -we live—forget this day.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, Ma dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: No, Ma.</p> -</div> - -<p class="center">(<em>Another silence.</em>)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Slowly; as though thinking aloud</em>): I hear people -talk about God’s justice—and I wonder. There, are you, -Ma. There isn’t a sacrifice—that you haven’t made. -You’re still working your fingers to the bone—sewing—just -so all of us may keep on living. Rachel is a graduate -in Domestic Science; she was high in her class; most -of the girls below her in rank have positions in the -schools. I’m an electrical engineer—and I’ve tried -steadily for several months—to practice my profession. -It seems our educations aren’t of much use to us: we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> -aren’t allowed to make good—because our skins are dark. -(<em>Pauses</em>) And, in the South today, there are white men—(<em>Controls -himself</em>). They have everything; they’re -well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed; they’re prosperous in -business; they’re important politically; they’re pillars in -the church. I know all this is true—I’ve inquired. -Their children (our ages, some of them) are growing up -around them; and they are having a square deal handed -out to them—college, position, wealth, and best of all, -freedom, without galling restrictions, to work out their -own salvations. With ability, they may become—anything; -and all this will be true of their children’s -children after them. (<em>A pause</em>). Look at us—and look -at them. We are destined to failure—they, to success. -Their children shall grow up in hope; ours, in despair. -Our hands are clean;—theirs are red with blood—red -with the blood of a noble man—and a boy. They’re -nothing but low, cowardly, bestial murderers. The scum -of the earth shall succeed.—God’s justice, I suppose.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Rising and going to Tom; brokenly</em>): Tom, -promise me—one thing.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Rises gently</em>): What is it, Ma?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: That—you’ll try—not to lose faith—in God. -I’ve been where you are now—and it’s black. Tom, we -don’t understand God’s ways. My son, I know, now—He -is beautiful. Tom, won’t you try to believe, again?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Slowly, but not convincingly</em>): I’ll try, Ma.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Sighs</em>): Each one, I suppose, has to work -out his own salvation. (<em>After a pause</em>) Rachel, if you’ll -get Jimmy ready, I’ll take him to school. I’ve got to go -down town shopping for a customer, this morning. (<em>Rachel -rises and goes out the rear doorway; Mrs. Loving, -limping very slightly now, follows. She turns and looks -back yearningly at Tom, who has seated himself again,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -and is staring unseeingly at his plate. She goes out. Tom -sits without moving until he hears Mrs. Loving’s voice -within and Rachel’s faintly; then he gets the paper, -sits in the arm-chair and pretends to read</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>From within</em>): A yard, you say, Rachel? -You’re sure that will be enough. Oh! you’ve measured -it. Anything else?—What?—Oh! all right. I’ll be back -by one o’clock, anyway. Good-bye. (<em>Enters with -Jimmy. Both are dressed for the street. Tom looks up -brightly at Jimmy</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Hello! Big Fellow, where are you taking <em>my</em> mother, -I’d like to know? This is a pretty kettle of fish.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): Aren’t you funny, Uncle Tom! Why, -I’m not taking her anywhere. She’s taking me. (<em>Importantly</em>) -I’m going to school.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Big Fellow, come here. (<em>Jimmy comes with a rush</em>). -Now, where’s that penny I gave you? No, I don’t want -to see it. All right. Did Ma Loving give you another? -(<em>Vigorous noddings of the head from Jimmy</em>). I wish -you to promise me solemnly—Now, listen! Here, don’t -wriggle so! not to buy—Listen! too many pints of ice-cream -with my penny. Understand?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Very seriously</em>): Yes, Uncle Tom, cross my “tummy”! -I promise.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, then, you may go. I guess that will be all for -the present. (<em>Jimmy loiters around looking up wistfully -into his face</em>). Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Haven’t you—aren’t you—isn’t you—forgetting -something?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Grabbing at his pockets</em>): Bless my stars! what now?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: If you could kind of lean over this way. (<em>Tom -leans forward</em>). No, not that way. (<em>Tom leans toward -the side away from Jimmy</em>). No, this way, this way!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -(<em>Laughs and pummels him with his little fists</em>). This -way!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Leaning toward Jimmy</em>): Well, why didn’t you say -so, at first?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Puts his arms around Tom’s neck and kisses him</em>): -Good-bye, dear old Uncle Tom. (<em>Tom catches him and -hugs him hard</em>). I likes to be hugged like that—I can -taste—sau-sa-ges.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You ’barrass me, son. Here, Ma, take your boy. Now -remember all I told you, Jimmy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I ’members.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: God bless you, Tom. Good luck.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>To Tom</em>): God bless you, Uncle Tom. Good luck!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Much affected, but with restraint, rising</em>): Thank -you—Good-bye. (<em>Mrs. Loving and Jimmy go out through -the vestibule. Tom lights a cigarette and tries to read -the paper. He soon sinks into a brown study. Presently -Rachel enters humming. Tom relights his cigarette; and -Rachel proceeds to clear the table. In the midst of this, -the bell rings three distinct times</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> and <span class="smcap">Tom</span>: John!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I wonder what’s up—It’s rather early for him.—I’ll -go. (<em>Rises leisurely and goes out into the vestibule. The -outer door opens and shuts. Men’s voices are heard. -Tom and John Strong enter. During the ensuing conversation -Rachel finishes clearing the table, takes the -fern off, puts on the green table-cloth, places a doily carefully -in the centre, and replaces the fern. She apparently -pays no attention to the conversation between her brother -and Strong. After she has finished, she goes to the -kitchenette. The rattle of dishes can be heard now and -then</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Brightly</em>): Well, stranger, how does it happen -you’re out so early in the morning?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I hadn’t seen any of you for a week, and I thought -I’d come by, on my way to work, and find out how things -are going. There is no need of asking how you are, Rachel. -And the mother and the boy?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Ma dear’s rheumatism still holds on.—Jimmy’s -fine.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I’m sorry to hear that your mother is not well. -There isn’t a remedy going that my mother doesn’t know -about. I’ll get her advice and let you know. (<em>Turning -to Tom</em>) Well, Tom, how goes it? (<em>Strong and Tom -sit</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Smiling grimly</em>): There’s plenty of “go,” but no “git -there.”</p> - -<p class="right p0">(<em>There is a pause</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I was hoping for better news.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: If I remember rightly, not so many years ago, you -tried—and failed. Then, a colored man had hardly a -ghost of a show;—now he hasn’t even the ghost of a ghost. -(<em>Rachel has finished and goes into the kitchenette</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: That’s true enough. (<em>A pause</em>). What are you -going to do?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): I’ll do this little “going act” of mine the rest -of the week; (<em>pauses</em>) and then, I’ll do anything I can get -to do. If necessary, I suppose, I can be a “White-wing.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Tom, I came—(<em>Breaks off; continuing slowly</em>) -Six years ago, I found I was up against a stone wall—your -experience, you see, to the letter. I couldn’t let my -mother starve, so I became a waiter. (<em>Pauses</em>). I -studied waiting; I made a science of it, an art. In a comparatively -short time, I’m a head-waiter and I’m up -against another stonewall. I’ve reached my limit. I’m -thirty-two now, and I’ll die a head-waiter. (<em>A pause</em>).<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -College friends, so-called, and acquaintances used to come -into the restaurant. One or two at first—attempted to -commiserate with me. They didn’t do it again. I waited -upon them—I did my best. Many of them tipped me. -(<em>Pauses and smiles grimly</em>). I can remember my first -tip, still. They come in yet; many of them are already -powers, not only in this city, but in the country. Some -of them make a personal request that I wait upon them. I -am an artist, now, in my proper sphere. They tip me well, -extremely well—the larger the tip, the more pleased they -are with me. Because of me, in their own eyes, they’re -philanthropists. Amusing, isn’t it? I can stand their attitude -now. My philosophy—learned hard, is to make -the best of everything you can, and go on. At best, life -isn’t so very long. You’re wondering why I’m telling -you all this. I wish you to see things exactly as they are. -There are many disadvantages and some advantages in -being a waiter. My mother can live comfortably; I am -able, even, to see that she gets some of the luxuries. Tom, -it’s this way—I can always get you a job as a waiter; -I’ll teach you the art. If you care to begin the end of -the week—all right. And remember this, as long as I -keep my job—this offer holds good.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I—I—(<em>Breaks off</em>) Thank you. (<em>A pause; then -smiling wryly</em>) I guess it’s safe enough to say, you’ll see -me at the end of the week. John you’re—(<em>Breaking off -again. A silence interrupted presently by the sound of -much vigorous rapping on the outer door of the flat. Rachel -appears and crosses over to the vestibule</em>). Hear the -racket! My kiddies gently begging for admittance. It’s -about twenty minutes of nine, isn’t it? (<em>Tom nods</em>). I -thought so. (<em>Goes into the entryway; presently reappears -with a group of six little girls ranging in age from -five to about nine. All are fighting to be close to her; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -all are talking at once. There is one exception: the smallest -tot is self-possessed and self-sufficient. She carries -a red geranium in her hand and gives it her full attention</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Mary</span>: It’s my turn to get “Morning kiss” first, this -morning, Miss Rachel. You kissed Louise first yesterday. -You said you’d kiss us “alphebettically.” (<em>Ending -in a shriek</em>). You promised! (<em>Rachel kisses Mary, who -subsides</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Nancy</span> (<em>Imperiously</em>): Now, me. (<em>Rachel kisses -her, and then amid shrieks, recriminations, pulling of hair, -jostling, etc., she kisses the rest. The small tot is still -oblivious to everything that is going on</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): You children will pull me limb from -limb; and then I’ll be all dead; and you’ll be sorry—see, -if you aren’t. (<em>They fall back immediately. Tom and -John watch in amused silence. Rachel loses all self-consciousness, -and seems to bloom in the children’s midst</em>). -Edith! come here this minute, and let me tie your hair-ribbon -again. Nancy, I’m ashamed of you, I saw you -trying to pull it off. (<em>Nancy looks abashed but mischievous</em>). -Louise, you look as sweet as sweet, this morning; -and Jenny, where did you get the pretty, pretty -dress?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Jenny</span> (<em>Snuffling, but proud</em>): My mother made it. -(<em>Pauses with more snuffles</em>). My mother says I have a -very bad cold. (<em><ins class="corr" id="tn47" title="Transcriber’s Note—“There is a brief silence interruped” changed to “There is a brief silence interrupted”.">There is a brief silence interrupted</ins> -by the small tot with the geranium</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span> (<em>In a sweet, little voice</em>): I—have—a—pitty—’ittle -flower.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Honey, it’s beautiful. Don’t you want “Morning -kiss” too?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span>: Yes, I do.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Come, honey. (<em>Rachel kisses her</em>). Are you -going to give the pretty flower to Jenny’s teacher? -(<em>Vigorous shakings of the head in denial</em>). Is it for—mother? -(<em>More shakings of the head</em>). Is it for—let’s -see—Daddy? (<em>More shakings of the head</em>). I give up. -To whom are you going to give the pretty flower, honey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span> (<em>Shyly</em>): “Oo.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: You, darling!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span>: Muzzer and I picked it—for “oo.” Here -’tis. (<em>Puts her finger in her mouth, and gives it shyly</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, I’m going to pay you with three big kisses. -One! Two! Three!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span>: I can count, One! Two! Free! Tan’t I? -I am going to school soon; and I wants to put the flower -in your hair.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Kneels</em>): All right, baby. (<em>Little Martha fumbles -and Rachel helps her</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span> (<em>Dreamily</em>): Miss Rachel, the ’ittle flower -loves you. It told me so. It said it wanted to lie in your -hair. It is going to tell you a pitty ’ittle secret. You -listen awful hard—and you’ll hear. I wish I were a -fairy and had a little wand, I’d turn everything into -flowers. Wouldn’t that be nice, Miss Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Lovely, honey!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Jenny</span> (<em>Snuffling loudly</em>): If I were a fairy and had -a wand, I’d turn you, Miss Rachel, into a queen—and -then I’d always be near you and see that you were happy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Honey, how beautiful!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Louise</span>: I’d make my mother happy—if I were a -fairy. She cries all the time. My father can’t get anything -to do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Nancy</span>: If I were a fairy, I’d turn a boy in my -school into a spider. I hate him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Honey, why?</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Nancy</span>: I’ll tell you sometime—I hate him.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Edith</span>: Where’s Jimmy, Miss Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: He went long ago; and chickies, you’ll have to -clear out, all of you, now, or you’ll be late. Shoo! Shoo! -(<em>She drives them out prettily before her. They laugh -merrily. They all go into the vestibule</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): Does it ever strike you—how pathetic and -tragic a thing—a little colored child is?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Today, we colored men and women, everywhere—are -up against it. Every year, we are having a harder -time of it. In the South, they make it as impossible as -they can for us to get an education. We’re hemmed in -on all sides. Our one safeguard—the ballot—in most -states, is taken away already, or is being taken away. -Economically, in a few lines, we have a slight show—but -at what a cost! In the North, they make a pretence -of liberality: they give us the ballot and a good education, -and then—snuff us out. Each year, the problem just to -live, gets more difficult to solve. How about these children—if -we’re fools enough to have any? (<span class="smcap">Rachel</span> <em>reenters. -Her face is drawn and pale. She returns to the -kitchenette.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Slowly, with emphasis</em>): That part—is damnable! -(<em>A silence.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Suddenly looking at the clock</em>): It’s later than I -thought. I’ll have to be pulling out of here now, if you -don’t mind. (<em>Raising his voice</em>) Rachel! (<em>Rachel still -drawn and pale, appears in the doorway of the kitchenette. -She is without her apron</em>). I’ve got to go now, -Sis. I leave John in your hands.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I’ve got to go, myself, in a few minutes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Nonsense, man! Sit still. I’ll begin to think, in a -minute, you’re afraid of the ladies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I am.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: What! And not ashamed to acknowledge it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: No.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You’re lots wiser than I dreamed. So long! (<em>Gets -hat out in the entry-way and returns; smiles wryly.</em>) -“Morituri Salutamus”. (<em>They nod at him—Rachel wistfully. -He goes out. There is the sound of an opening -and closing door. Rachel sits down. A rather uncomfortable -silence, on the part of Rachel, ensues. Strong -is imperturbable.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervously</em>): John!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I—I listened.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Listened! To what?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: To you and Tom.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Well,—what of it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I didn’t think it was quite fair not to tell you. It—it -seemed, well, like eavesdropping.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Don’t worry about it. Nonsense!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I’m glad—I want to thank you for what you did -for Tom. He needs you, and will need you. You’ll -help him?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: (<em>Thoughtfully</em>): Rachel, each one—has his own -little battles. I’ll do what I can. After all, an outsider -doesn’t help much.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: But friendship—just friendship—helps.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Yes. (<em>A silence</em>). Rachel, do you hear anything -encouraging from the schools? Any hope for you yet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, nor ever will be. I know that now. There’s -no more chance for me than there is for Tom,—or than -there was for you—or for any of us with dark skins. It’s -lucky for me that I love to keep house, and cook, and -sew. I’ll never get anything else. Ma dear’s sewing, -the little work Tom has been able to get, and the little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -sewing I sometimes get to do—keep us from the poorhouse. -We live. According to your philosophy, I suppose, -make the best of it—it might be worse.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Quietly</em>): You don’t want to get morbid over -these things, you know.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Scornfully</em>): That’s it. If you see things as they -are, you’re either pessimistic or morbid.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: In the long run, do you believe, that attitude of -mind—will be—beneficial to you? I’m ten years older -than you. I tried your way. I know. Mine is the only -sane one. (<em>Goes over to her slowly; deliberately puts -his hands on her hair, and tips her head back. He looks -down into her face quietly without saying anything</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervous and startled</em>): Why, John, don’t! (<em>He -pays no attention, but continue to look down into her -face</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Half to himself</em>): Perhaps—if you had—a little -more fun in your life, your point of view would be—more -normal. I’ll arrange it so I can take you to some -theatre, one night, this week.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Irritably</em>): You talk as though I were a—a jellyfish. -You’ll take me, how do you know <em>I’ll</em> go?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: You will.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sarcastically</em>): Indeed! (<span class="smcap">Strong</span> <em>makes no -reply</em>). I wonder if you know how—how—maddening -you are. Why, you talk as though my will counts for -nothing. It’s as if you’re trying to master me. I think -a domineering man is detestable.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Softly</em>): If he’s, perhaps, <em>the</em> man?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Hurriedly, as though she had not heard</em>): Besides, -some of these theatres put you off by yourself as though -you had leprosy. I’m not going.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Smiling at her</em>): You know I wouldn’t ask you -to go, under those circumstances. (<em>A silence</em>). Well, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -must be going now. (<em>He takes her hand, and looks at -it reverently. Rachel, at first resists; but he refuses to -let go. When she finds it useless, she ceases to resist. -He turns his head and smiles down into her face</em>). -Rachel, I am coming back to see you, this evening.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I’m sure <em>we’ll</em> all be very glad to see you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Looking at her calmly</em>): I said—<em>you</em>. (<em>Very deliberately, -he turns her hand palm upwards, leans over and -kisses it; then he puts it back into her lap. He touches her -cheek lightly</em>). Good-bye—little Rachel. (<em>Turns in the -vestibule door and looks back, smiling</em>). Until tonight. -(<em>He goes out. Rachel sits for some time without moving. -She is lost in a beautiful day-dream. Presently -she sighs happily, and after looking furtively around the -room, lifts the palm John has kissed to her lips. She -laughs shyly and jumping up, begins to hum. She opens -the window at the rear of the room and then commences -to thread the sewing-machine. She hums happily the -whole time. A light rapping is heard at the outer door. -Rachel listens. It stops, and begins again. There is -something insistent, and yet hopeless in the sound. -Rachel looking puzzled, goes out into the vestibule.... The -door closes. Rachel, a black woman, poorly dressed, -and a little ugly, black child come in. There is the stoniness -of despair in the woman’s face. The child is thin, -nervous, suspicious, frightened</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>In a sharp, but toneless voice</em>): May I sit -down? I’m tired.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Puzzled, but gracious; draws up a chair for her</em>): -Why, certainly.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: No, you don’t know me—never even heard of -me—nor I of you. I was looking at the vacant flat on -this floor—and saw your name—on your door,—“Loving!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -It’s a strange name to come across—in this world.—I -thought, perhaps, you might give me some information. -(<em>The child hides behind her mother and looks -around at Rachel in a frightened way</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Smiling at the woman and child in a kindly -manner</em>): I’ll be glad to tell you anything, I am able -Mrs.—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Lane. What I want to know is, how do they -treat the colored children in the school I noticed around -the corner? (<em>The child clutches at her mother’s dress</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Perplexed</em>): Very well—I’m sure.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>Bluntly</em>): What reason have you for being -sure?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Why, the little boy I’ve adopted goes there; and -he’s very happy. All the children in this apartment-house -go there too; and I know they’re happy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Do you know how many colored children there -are in the school?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Why, I should guess around thirty.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: I see. (<em>Pauses</em>). What color is this little -adopted boy of yours?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Gently</em>): Why—he’s brown.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Any black children there?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervously</em>): Why—yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Do you mind if I send Ethel over by the piano -to sit?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: N—no, certainly not. (<em>Places a chair by the -piano and goes to the little girl holding out her hand. -She smiles beautifully. The child gets farther behind her -mother</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: She won’t go to you—she’s afraid of everybody -now but her father and me. Come Ethel. (<em>Mrs. Lane -takes the little girl by the hand and leads her to the chair. -In a gentler voice</em>) Sit down, Ethel. (<em>Ethel obeys.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -When her mother starts back again toward Rachel, she -holds out her hands pitifully. She makes no sound</em>). -I’m not going to leave you, Ethel. I’ll be right over here. -You can see me. (<em>The look of agony on the child’s face, -as her mother leaves her, makes Rachel shudder</em>). Do -you mind if we sit over here by the sewing-machine? -Thank you. (<em>They move their chairs</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Looking at the little, pitiful figure watching its -mother almost unblinkingly</em>): Does Ethel like apples, Mrs. -Lane?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Do you mind if I give her one?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: No. Thank you, very much.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Goes into the kitchenette and returns with a -fringed napkin, a plate, and a big, red apple, cut into -quarters. She goes to the little girl, who cowers away -from her; very gently</em>). Here, dear, little girl, is a -beautiful apple for you. (<em>The gentle tones have no appeal -for the trembling child before her</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>Coming forward</em>): I’m sorry, but I’m afraid -she won’t take it from you. Ethel, the kind lady has given -you an apple. Thank her nicely. Here! I’ll spread the -napkin for you, and put the plate in your lap. Thank the -lady like a good little girl.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ethel</span> (<em>Very low</em>): Thank you. (<em>They return to their -seats. Ethel with difficulty holds the plate in her lap. -During the rest of the interview between Rachel and her -mother, she divides her attention between the apple on -the plate and her mother’s face. She makes no attempt -to eat the apple, but holds the plate in her lap with a care -that is painful to watch. Often, too, she looks over her -shoulder fearfully. The conversation between Rachel -and her mother is carried on in low tones</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: I’ve got to move—it’s <em>Ethel</em>.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: What is the matter with that child? It’s—it’s -heartbreaking to see her.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: I understand how you feel,—I don’t feel anything, -myself, any more. (<em>A pause</em>). My husband and I -are poor, and we’re ugly and we’re black. Ethel looks like -her father more than she does like me. We live in 55th -Street—near the railroad. It’s a poor neighborhood, but -the rent’s cheap. My husband is a porter in a store; and, -to help out, I’m a caretaker. (<em>Pauses</em>). I don’t know -why I’m telling you all this. We had a nice little home—and -the three of us were happy. Now we’ve got to move.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Move! Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: It’s Ethel. I put her in school this September. -She stayed two weeks. (<em>Pointing to Ethel</em>) That’s the -result.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In horror</em>): You mean—that just two weeks—in -school—did that?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Yes. Ethel never had a sick day in her life—before. -(<em>A brief pause</em>). I took her to the doctor at -the end of the two weeks. He says she’s a nervous wreck.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: But what could they have done to her?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>Laughs grimly and mirthlessly</em>): I’ll tell you -what they did the first day. Ethel is naturally sensitive -and backward. She’s not assertive. The teacher saw -that, and, after I had left, told her to sit in a seat in the -rear of the class. She was alone there—in a corner. -The children, immediately feeling there was something -wrong with Ethel because of the teacher’s attitude, turned -and stared at her. When the teacher’s back was turned -they whispered about her, pointed their fingers at her -and tittered. The teacher divided the class into two parts, -divisions, I believe, they are called. She forgot all about -Ethel, of course, until the last minute, and then, looking -back, said sharply: “That little girl there may join this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -division,” meaning the group of pupils standing around -her. Ethel naturally moved slowly. The teacher called -her sulky and told her to lose a part of her recess. When -Ethel came up—the children drew away from her in every -direction. She was left standing alone. The teacher then -proceeded to give a lesson about kindness to animals. -Funny, isn’t it, <em>kindness</em> to <em>animals</em>? The children forgot -Ethel in the excitement of talking about their pets. -Presently, the teacher turned to Ethel and said disagreeably: -“Have you a pet?” Ethel said, “Yes,” very low. -“Come, speak up, you sulky child, what is it?” Ethel -said: “A blind puppy.” They all laughed, the teacher -and all. Strange, isn’t it, but Ethel loves that puppy. -She spoke up: “It’s mean to laugh at a little blind puppy. -I’m glad he’s blind.” This remark brought forth more -laughter. “Why are you glad,” the teacher asked -curiously. Ethel refused to say. (<em>Pauses</em>). When I -asked her why, do you know what she told me? “If he -saw me, he might not love me any more.” (<em>A pause</em>). -Did I tell you that Ethel is only seven years old?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Drawing her breath sharply</em>): Oh! I didn’t believe -any one could be as cruel as that—to a little child.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: It isn’t very pleasant, is it? When the teacher -found out that Ethel wouldn’t answer, she said severely: -“Take your seat!” At recess, all the children went out. -Ethel could hear them playing and laughing and shrieking. -Even the teacher went too. She was made to sit there -all alone—in that big room—because God made her ugly—and -black. (<em>Pauses</em>). When the recess was half over -the teacher came back. “You may go now,” she said -coldly. Ethel didn’t stir. “Did you hear me?” “Yes’m.” -“Why don’t you obey?” “I don’t want to go out, please.” -“You don’t, don’t you, you stubborn child! Go immediately!” -Ethel went. She stood by the school steps.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -No one spoke to her. The children near her moved away -in every direction. They stopped playing, many of them, -and watched her. They stared as only children can stare. -Some began whispering about her. Presently one child -came up and ran her hand roughly over Ethel’s face. She -looked at her hand and Ethel’s face and ran screaming -back to the others, “It won’t come off! See!” Other -children followed the first child’s example. Then one -boy spoke up loudly: “I know what she is, she’s a nigger!” -Many took up the cry. God or the devil interfered—the -bell rang. The children filed in. One boy -boldly called her “Nigger!” before the teacher. She said, -“That isn’t nice,”—but she smiled at the boy. Things -went on about the same for the rest of the day. At the -end of school, Ethel put on her hat and coat—the teacher -made her hang them at a distance from the other pupils’ -wraps; and started for home. Quite a crowd escorted -her. They called her “Nigger!” all the way. I <em>made</em> -Ethel go the next day. I complained to the authorities. -They treated me lightly. I was determined not to let -them force my child out of school. At the end of two -weeks—I had to take her out.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Brokenly</em>): Why,—I never—in all my life—heard -anything—so—pitiful.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Did you ever go to school here?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes. I was made to feel my color—but I never -had an experience like that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: How many years ago were you in the graded -schools?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh!—around ten.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>Laughs grimly</em>): Ten years! Every year -things are getting worse. Last year wasn’t as bad as this. -(<em>Pauses.</em>) So they treat the children all right in this -school?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes! Yes! I know that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: I can’t afford to take this flat here, but I’ll -take it. I’m going to have Ethel educated. Although, -when you think of it,—it’s all rather useless—this education! -What are our children going to do with it, when -they get it? We strive and save and sacrifice to educate -them—and the whole time—down underneath, we know—they’ll -have no chance.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sadly</em>): Yes, that’s true, all right.—God seems -to have forgotten us.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: God! It’s all a lie about God. I know.—This -fall I sent Ethel to a white Sunday-school near us. She -received the same treatment there she did in the day -school. Her being there, nearly broke up the school. -At the end, the superintendent called her to him and asked -her if she didn’t know of some nice colored Sunday-school. -He told her she must feel out of place, and -uncomfortable there. That’s your Church of God!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! how unspeakably brutal. (<em>Controls herself -with an effort; after a pause</em>) Have you any other -children?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>Dryly</em>): Hardly! If I had another—I’d kill -it. It’s kinder. (<em>Rising presently</em>) Well, I must go, -now. Thank you, for your information—and for -listening. (<em>Suddenly</em>) You aren’t married, are you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span>: Don’t marry—that’s my advice. Come, Ethel. -(<em>Ethel gets up and puts down the things in her lap, -carefully upon her chair. She goes in a hurried, timid -way to her mother and clutches her hand</em>). Say good-bye -to the lady.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Ethel</span> (<em>Faintly</em>): Good-bye.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> <em>(Kneeling by the little girl—a beautiful smile on -her face</em>) Dear little girl, won’t you let me kiss you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -good-bye? I love little girls. (<em>The child hides behind -her mother; continuing brokenly</em>) Oh!—no child—ever -did—that to me—before!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Lane</span> (<em>In a gentler voice</em>): Perhaps, when we move in -here, the first of the month, things may be better. Thank -you, again. Good-morning! You don’t belie your name. -(<em>All three go into the vestibule. The outside door opens -and closes. Rachel as though dazed and stricken returns. -She sits in a chair, leans forward, and clasping her hands -loosely between her knees, stares at the chair with the -apple on it where Ethel Lane has sat. She does not move -for some time. Then she gets up and goes to the window -in the rear center and sits there. She breathes in the air -deeply and then goes to the sewing-machine and begins -to sew on something she is making. Presently her feet -slow down on the pedals; she stops; and begins brooding -again. After a short pause, she gets up and begins to -pace up and down slowly, mechanically, her head bent -forward. The sharp ringing of the electric bell breaks -in upon this. Rachel starts and goes slowly into the -vestibule. She is heard speaking dully through the tube</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes!—All right! Bring it up! (<em>Presently she -returns with a long flower box. She opens it listlessly -at the table. Within are six, beautiful crimson rosebuds -with long stems. Rachel looks at the name on the card. -She sinks down slowly on her knee and leans her head -against the table. She sighs wearily</em>) Oh! John! -John!—What are we to do?—I’m—I’m—afraid! Everywhere—it -is the same thing. My mother! My little -brother! Little, black, crushed Ethel! (<em>In a whisper</em>) -Oh! God! You who I have been taught to believe are so -good, so beautiful how could—You permit—these—things? -(<em>Pauses, raises her head and sees the rosebuds. -Her face softens and grows beautiful, very sweetly</em>).<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -Dear little rosebuds—you—make me think—of sleeping, -curled up, happy babies. Dear beautiful, little rosebuds! -(<em>Pauses; goes on thoughtfully to the rosebuds</em>) When—I -look—at you—I believe—God is beautiful. He who can -make a little exquisite thing like this, and this can’t be -cruel. Oh! He can’t mean me—to give up—love—and -the hope of little children. (<em>There is the sound of a -small hand knocking at the outer door. Rachel smiles</em>). -My Jimmy! It must be twelve o’clock. (<em>Rises</em>). I -didn’t dream it was so late. (<em>Starts for the vestibule</em>). -Oh! the world can’t be so bad. I don’t believe it. I -won’t. I <em>must</em> forget that little girl. My little Jimmy is -happy—and today John—sent me beautiful rosebuds. Oh, -there are lovely things, yet. (<em>Goes into the vestibule. A -child’s eager cry is heard; and Rachel carrying Jimmy in -her arms comes in. He has both arms about her neck -and is hugging her. With him in her arms, she sits down -in the armchair at the right front</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, honey, how was school today?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Sobering a trifle</em>): All right, Ma Rachel. (<em>Suddenly -sees the roses</em>) Oh! look at the pretty flowers. Why, -Ma Rachel, you forgot to put them in water. They’ll die.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, so they will. Hop down this minute, and -I’ll put them in right away. (<em>Gathers up box and flowers -and goes into the kitchenette. Jimmy climbs back into -the chair. He looks thoughtful and serious. Rachel -comes back with the buds in a tall, glass vase. She puts -the fern on top of the piano, and places the vase in the -centre of the table</em>). There, honey, that’s better, isn’t it? -Aren’t they lovely?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Yes, that’s lots better. Now they won’t die, will -they? Rosebuds are just like little “chilyun,” aren’t they, -Ma Rachel? If you are good to them, they’ll grow up -into lovely roses, won’t they? And if you hurt them,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -they’ll die. Ma Rachel do you think all peoples are kind -to little rosebuds?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Watching Jimmy shortly</em>): Why, of course. Who -could hurt little children? Who would have the heart to -do such a thing?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: If you hurt them, it would be lots kinder, wouldn’t -it, to kill them all at once, and not a little bit and a little -bit?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sharply</em>): Why, honey boy, why are you talking -like this?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Ma Rachel, what is a “Nigger”?</p> -</div> - -<p class="center">(<em>Rachel recoils as though she had been struck</em>).</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Honey boy, why—why do you ask that?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Some big boys called me that when I came out of -school just now. They said: “Look at the little nigger!” -And they laughed. One of them runned, no ranned, -after me and threw stones; and they all kept calling -“Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!” One stone struck me hard -in the back, and it hurt awful bad; but I didn’t cry, Ma -Rachel. I wouldn’t let them make me cry. The stone -hurts me there, Ma Rachel; but what they called me hurts -and hurts here. What is a “Nigger,” Ma Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Controlling herself with a tremendous effort. At -last she sweeps down upon him and hugs and kisses him</em>): -Why, honey boy, those boys didn’t mean anything. Silly, -little, honey boy! They’re rough, that’s all. How <em>could</em> -they mean anything?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: You’re only saying that, Ma Rachel, so I won’t be -hurt. I know. It wouldn’t ache here like it does—if -they didn’t mean something.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Abruptly</em>): Where’s Mary, honey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: She’s in her flat. She came in just after I did.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, honey, I’m going to give you two big cookies -and two to take to Mary; and you may stay in there and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -play with her, till I get your lunch ready. Won’t that be -jolly?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Brightening a little</em>): Why, you never give me but -one at a time. You’ll give me two?—One? Two? (<em>Rachel -gets the cookies and brings them to him. Jimmy climbs -down from the chair</em>). Shoo! now, little honey boy. See -how many laughs you can make for me, before I come -after you. Hear? Have a good time, now. (<em>Jimmy -starts for the door quickly; but he begins to slow down. -His face gets long and serious again. Rachel watches -him</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Jumping at him</em>): Shoo! Shoo! Get out of here -quickly, little chicken. (<em>She follows him out. The outer -door opens and shuts. Presently she returns. She looks -old and worn and grey; calmly. Pauses</em>). First, it’s little, -black Ethel—and then’s it’s Jimmy. Tomorrow, it -will be some other little child. The blight—sooner or -later—strikes all. My little Jimmy, only seven years old -poisoned! (<em>Through the open window comes the laughter -of little children at play. Rachel, shuddering, covers -her ears</em>). And once I said, centuries ago, it must have -been: “How can life be so terrible, when there are little -children in the world?” Terrible! Terrible! (<em>In a whisper, -slowly</em>) That’s the reason it is so terrible. (<em>The -laughter reaches her again; this time she listens</em>). And, -suddenly, some day, from out of the black, the blight -shall descend, and shall still forever—the laughter on -those little lips, and in those little hearts. (<em>Pauses -thoughtfully</em>). And the loveliest thing—almost, that ever -happened to me, that beautiful voice, in my dream, those -beautiful words: “Rachel, you are to be the mother to -little children.” (<em>Pauses, then slowly and with dawning -surprise</em>). Why, God, you were making a mock of me; -you were laughing at me. <ins class="corr" id="tn62" title="Transcriber’s Note—“I didn’t belive” changed to “I didn’t believe”."> I didn’t believe</ins> -God could laugh<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -at our sufferings, but He can. We are accursed, accursed! -We have nothing, absolutely nothing. (<em>Strong’s -rosebuds attract her attention. She goes over to them, -puts her hand out as if to touch them, and then shakes -her head, very sweetly</em>) No, little rosebuds, I may not -touch you. Dear, little, baby rosebuds,—I am accursed. -(<em>Gradually her whole form stiffens, she breathes deeply; -at last slowly</em>). You God!—You terrible, laughing God! -Listen! I swear—and may my soul be damned to all -eternity, if I do break this oath—I swear—that no child -of mine shall ever lie upon my breast, for I will not have -it rise up, in the terrible days that are to be—and call me -cursed. (<em>A pause, very wistfully; questioningly</em>). -Never to know the loveliest thing in all the world—the -feel of a little head, the touch of little hands, the beautiful -utter dependence—of a little child? (<em>With sudden -frenzy</em>) You can laugh, Oh God! Well, so can I. (<em>Bursts -into terrible, racking laughter</em>) But I can be kinder than -You. (<em>Fiercely she snatches the rosebuds from the vase, -grasps them roughly, tears each head from the stem, and -grinds it under her feet. The vase goes over with a -crash; the water drips unheeded over the table-cloth and -floor</em>). If I kill, You Mighty God, I kill at once—I do -not torture. (<em>Falls face downward on the floor. The -laughter of the children shrills loudly through the window</em>).</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pfs135 pg-brk p10 pb10">ACT III</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ACT_III">ACT III.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Time</span>: <em>Seven o’clock in the evening, one week later</em>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Place</span>: <em>The same room. There is a coal fire in the grate. -The curtains are drawn. A lighted oil lamp with a -dark green porcelain shade is in the center of the table. -Mrs. Loving and Tom are sitting by the table, Mrs. -Loving sewing, Tom reading. There is the sound of -much laughter and the shrill screaming of a child from -the bedrooms. Presently Jimmy clad in a flannelet -sleeping suit, covering all of him but his head and hands, -chases a pillow, which has come flying through the -doorway at the rear. He struggles with it, finally gets -it in his arms, and rushes as fast as he can through the -doorway again. Rachel jumps at him with a cry. He -drops the pillow and shrieks. There is a tussle for possession -of it, and they disappear. The noise grows -louder and merrier. Tom puts down his paper and -grins. He looks at his mother.</em></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, who’s the giddy one in this family now?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Shaking her head in a troubled manner</em>): I -don’t like it. It worries me. Rachel—(<em>Breaks off</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Have you found out, yet—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Turning and looking toward the rear doorway, -quickly interrupting him</em>): Sh! (<em>Rachel, laughing, -her hair tumbling over her shoulders, comes rushing into -the room. Jimmy is in close pursuit. He tries to catch -her, but she dodges him. They are both breathless</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Deprecatingly</em>): Really, Rachel, Jimmy will -be so excited he won’t be able to sleep. It’s after his -bedtime, now. Don’t you think you had better stop?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: All right, Ma dear. Come on, Jimmy; let’s play -“Old Folks” and sit by the fire. (<em>She begins to push the -big armchair over to the fire. Tom jumps up, moves her -aside, and pushes it himself. Jimmy renders assistance.</em>)</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Thanks, Big Fellow, you are “sure some” strong. I’ll -remember you when these people around here come -for me to move pianos and such things around. Shake! -(<em>They shake hands</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Proudly</em>): I am awful strong, am I not?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You “sure” are a Hercules. (<em>Hurriedly, as Jimmy’s -mouth and eyes open wide</em>). And see here! don’t ask me -tonight who that was. I’ll tell you the first thing tomorrow -morning. Hear? (<em>Returns to his chair and paper</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sitting down</em>): Come on, honey boy, and sit in my -lap.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Doubtfully</em>): I thought we were going to play “Old -Folks.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: We are.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Do old folks sit in each other’s laps?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Old folks do anything. Come on.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Hesitatingly climbs into her lap, but presently snuggles -down and sighs audibly from sheer content; Rachel -starts to bind up her hair</em>): Ma Rachel, don’t please! I -like your hair like that. You’re—you’re pretty. I like -to feel of it; and it smells like—like—oh!—like a barn.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: My! how complimentary! I like that. Like a -barn, indeed!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: What’s “complimentry”?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! saying nice things about me. (<em>Pinching his -cheek and laughing</em>) That my hair is like a barn, for instance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Stoutly</em>): Well, that is “complimentary.” It smells -like hay—like the hay in the barn you took me to, one day, -last summer. ’Member?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes honey.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>After a brief pause</em>): Ma Rachel!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Tell me a story, please. It’s “story-time,” now, -isn’t it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, let’s see. (<em>They both look into the fire for -a space; beginning softly</em>) Once upon a time, there were -two, dear, little boys, and they were all alone in the world. -They lived with a cruel, old man and woman, who made -them work hard, very hard—all day, and beat them when -they did not move fast enough, and always, every night, -before they went to bed. They slept in an attic on a -rickety, narrow bed, that went screech! screech! whenever -they moved. And, in summer, they nearly died with -the heat up there, and in winter, with the cold. One wintry -night, when they were both weeping very bitterly after -a particularly hard beating, they suddenly heard a -pleasant voice saying: “Why are you crying, little boys?” -They looked up, and there, in the moonlight, by their bed, -was the dearest, little old lady. She was dressed all in -gray, from the peak of her little pointed hat to her little, -buckled shoes. She held a black cane much taller than -her little self. Her hair fell about her ears in tiny, grey -corkscrew curls, and they bobbed about as she moved. -Her eyes were black and bright—as bright as—well, as -that lovely, white light there. No, there! And her -cheeks were as red as the apple I gave you yesterday. Do -you remember?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Dreamily</em>): Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: “Why are you crying, little boys?” she asked again, -in a lovely, low, little voice. “Because we are tired and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -sore and hungry and cold; and we are all alone in the -world; and we don’t know how to laugh any more. We -should so like to laugh again.” “Why, that’s easy,” -she said, “it’s just like this.” And she laughed a little, -joyous, musical laugh. “Try!” she commanded. They -tried, but their laughing boxes were very rusty, and they -made horrid sounds. “Well,” she said, “I advise you to -pack up, and go away, as soon as you can, to the Land -of Laughter. You’ll soon learn there, I can tell you.” -“Is there such a land?” they asked doubtfully. “To be -sure there is,” she answered the least bit sharply. “We -never heard of it,” they said. “Well, I’m sure there must -be plenty of things you never heard about,” she said just -the “leastest” bit more sharply. “In a moment you’ll be -telling me flowers don’t talk together, and the birds.” -“We never heard of such a thing,” they said in surprise, -their eyes like saucers. “There!” she said, bobbing her -little curls. “What did I tell you? You have much to -learn.” “How do you get to the Land of Laughter?” -they asked. “You go out of the eastern gate of the town, -just as the sun is rising; and you take the highway there, -and follow it; and if you go with it long enough, it will -bring you to the very gates of the Land of Laughter. It’s -a long, long way from here; and it will take you many -days.” The words had scarcely left her mouth, when, lo! -the little lady disappeared, and where she had stood was -the white square of moonlight—nothing else. And without -more ado these two little boys put their arms around -each other and fell fast asleep. And in the grey, just -before daybreak, they awoke and dressed; and, putting on -their ragged caps and mittens, for it was a wintry day, -they stole out of the house and made for the eastern gate. -And just as they reached it, and passed through, the -whole east leapt into fire. All day they walked, and many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -days thereafter, and kindly people, by the way, took them -in and gave them food and drink and sometimes a bed at -night. Often they slept by the roadside, but they didn’t -mind that for the climate was delightful—not too hot, and -not too cold. They soon threw away their ragged little -mittens. They walked for many days, and there was no -Land of Laughter. Once they met an old man, richly -dressed, with shining jewels on his fingers, and he stopped -them and asked: “Where are you going so fast, little -boys?” “We are going to the Land of Laughter,” they -said together gravely. “That,” said the old man, “is a -very foolish thing to do. Come with me, and I will take -you to the Land of Riches. I will cover you with garments -of beauty, and give you jewels and a castle to live -in and servants and horses and many things besides.” -And they said to him: “No, we wish to learn how to -laugh again; we have forgotten how, and we are going -to the Land of Laughter.” “You will regret not going -with me. See, if you don’t,” he said; and he left them -in quite a huff. And they walked again, many days, and -again they met an old man. He was tall and imposing-looking -and very dignified. And he said: “Where are -you going so fast, little boys?” “We are going to the -Land of Laughter,” they said together very seriously. -“What!” he said, “that is an extremely foolish thing to -do. Come with me, and I will give you power. I will -make you great men: generals, kings, emperors, Whatever -you desire to accomplish will be permitted you.” -And they smiled politely: “Thank you very much, but -we have forgotten how to laugh, and we are going there -to learn how.” He looked upon them haughtily, without -speaking, and disappeared. And they walked and walked -more days; and they met another old man. And he was -clad in rags, and his face was thin, and his eyes were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -unhappy. And he whispered to them: “Where are you -going so fast, little boys?” “We are going to the Land -of Laughter,” they answered, without a smile. “Laughter! -Laughter! that is useless. Come with me and I will -show you the beauty of life through sacrifice, suffering -for others. That is the only life. I come from the Land -of Sacrifice.” And they thanked him kindly, but said: -“We have suffered long enough. We have forgotten how -to laugh. We would learn again.” And they went on; -and he looked after them very wistfully. They walked -more days, and at last they came to the Land of Laughter. -And how do you suppose they knew this? Because they -could hear, over the wall, the sound of joyous laughter,—the -laughter of men, women, and children. And one sat -guarding the gate, and they went to her. “We have come -a long, long distance; and we would enter the Land of -Laughter.” “Let me see you smile, first,” she said gently. -“I sit at the gate; and no one who does not know how to -smile may enter the Land of Laughter.” And they tried -to smile, but could not. “Go away and practice,” she said -kindly, “and come back tomorrow.” And they went -away, and practiced all night how to smile; and in the -morning they returned, and the gentle lady at the gate -said: “Dear little boys, have you learned how to smile?” -And they said: “We have tried. How is this?” “Better,” -she said, “much better. Practice some more, and -come back tomorrow.” And they went away obediently -and practiced, And they came the third day. And she -said: “Now try again.” And tears of delight came into -her lovely eyes. “Those were very beautiful smiles,” she -said. “Now, you may enter.” And she unlocked the gate, -and kissed them both, and they entered the Land—the -beautiful Land of Laughter. Never had they seen such -blue skies, such green trees and grass; never had they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -heard such birds songs. And people, men, women and -children, laughing softly, came to meet them, and took -them in, and made them as home; and soon, very soon, -they learned to sleep. And they grew up here, and married, -and had laughing, happy children. And sometimes -they thought of the Land of Riches, and said: “Ah! well!” -and sometimes of the Land of Power, and sighed a little; -and sometimes of the Land of Sacrifice—and their eyes -were wistful. But they soon forgot, and laughed again. -And they grew old, laughing. And then when they died—a -laugh was on their lips. Thus are things in the beautiful -Land of Laughter. (<em>There is a long pause</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I like that story, Ma Rachel. It’s nice to laugh, -isn’t is? Is there such a land?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Softly</em>): What do you think, honey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I thinks it would be awful nice if there was. Don’t -you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Wistfully</em>): If there only were! If there only -were!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Ma Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: It makes you think—kind of—doesn’t it—of sunshine -medicine?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes, honey,—but it isn’t medicine there. It’s always -there—just like—well—like our air here. It’s <em>always</em> -sunshine there.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Always sunshine? Never any dark?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, honey.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: You’d—never—be—afraid there, then, would you? -Never afraid of nothing?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, honey.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>With a big sigh</em>): Oh!—Oh! I <em>wisht</em> it was here—not -there. (<em>Puts his hand up to Rachel’s face; suddenly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -sits up and looks at her</em>). Why, Ma Rachel dear, you’re -crying. Your face is all wet. Why! Don’t cry! Don’t -cry!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Gently</em>): Do you remember that I told you the lady -at the gate had tears of joy in her eyes, when the two, -dear, little boys smiled that beautiful smile?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, these are tears of joy, honey, that’s all—tears -of joy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: It must be awful queer to have tears of joy, ’cause -you’re happy. I never did. (<em>With a sigh</em>). But, if you -say they are, dear Ma Rachel, they must be. You knows -everything, don’t you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sadly</em>): Some things, honey, some things. (<em>A -silence</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Sighing happily</em>): This is the beautiful-est night I -ever knew. If you would do just one more thing, it -would be lots more beautiful. Will you, Ma Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, what, honey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Will you sing—at the piano, I mean, it’s lots prettier -that way—the little song you used to rock me to sleep -by? You know, the one about the “Slumber Boat”?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! honey, not tonight. You’re too tired. It’s -bedtime now.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Patting her face with his little hand; wheedlingly</em>): -Please! Ma Rachel, please! pretty please!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, honey boy, this once, then. Tonight, you -shall have the little song—I used to sing you to sleep by -(<em>half to herself</em>) perhaps, for the last time.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Why, Ma Rachel, why the last time?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Shaking her head sadly, goes to the piano; in a -whisper</em>): The last time. (<em>She twists up her hair into a -knot at the back of her head and looks at the keys for a -few moments; then she plays the accompaniment of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -“Slumber Boat” through softly, and, after a moment, -sings. Her voice is full of pent-up longing, and heartbreak, -and hopelessness. She ends in a little sob, but -attempts to cover it by singing, lightly and daintily, the -chorus of “The Owl and the Moon.” ... Then softly and -with infinite tenderness, almost against her will, she plays -and sings again the refrain of the “Slumber Boat”</em>):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Sail, baby, sail</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Out from that sea,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Only don’t forget to sail</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Back again to me.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">(<em>Presently she rises and goes to Jimmy, who is lolling -back happily in the big chair. During the singing, Tom -and Mrs. Loving apparently do not listen; when she sobs, -however, Tom’s hand on his paper tightens; Mrs. Loving’s -needle poises for a moment in mid-air. Neither looks -at Rachel. Jimmy evidently has not noticed the sob</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Kneeling by Jimmy</em>): Well, honey, how did you -like it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Proceeding to pull down her hair from the twist</em>): -It was lovely, Ma Rachel. (<em>Yawns audibly</em>). Now, Ma -Rachel, I’m just beautifully sleepy. (<em>Dreamily</em>) I think -that p’r’aps I’ll go to the Land of Laughter tonight in my -dreams. I’ll go in the “Slumber Boat” and come back in -the morning and tell you all about it. Shall I?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes, honey. (<em>Whispers</em>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Only don’t forget to sail</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Back again to me.”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Suddenly</em>): Rachel! (<em>Rachel starts slightly</em>). I -nearly forgot. John is coming here tonight to see how -you are. He told me to tell you so.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Stiffens perceptibly, then in different tones</em>): Very -well. Thank you. (<em>Suddenly with a little cry she puts -her arms around Jimmy</em>) Jimmy! honey! don’t go tonight. -Don’t go without Ma Rachel. Wait for me, honey. I do -so wish to go, too, to the Land of Laughter. Think of it, -Jimmy; nothing but birds always singing, and flowers always -blooming, and skies always blue—and people, all of -them, always laughing, laughing. You’ll wait for Ma -Rachel, won’t you, honey?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Is there really and truly, Ma Rachel, a Land of -Laughter?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! Jimmy, let’s hope so; let’s pray so.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Frowns</em>): I’ve been thinking—(<em>Pauses</em>). You -have to smile at the gate, don’t you, to get in?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes, honey.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Well, I guess I couldn’t smile if my Ma Rachel -wasn’t somewhere close to me. So I couldn’t get in after -all, could I? Tonight, I’ll go somewhere else, and tell you -all about it. And then, some day, we’ll go together, won’t -we?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sadly</em>): Yes, honey, some day—some day. (<em>A -short silence</em>). Well, this isn’t going to “sleepy-sleep,” is -it? Go, now, and say good-night to Ma Loving and Uncle -Tom.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Gets down obediently, and goes first to Ma Loving. -She leans over, and he puts his little arms around -her neck. They kiss; very sweetly</em>): Sweet dreams! God -keep you all the night!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: The sweetest of sweet dreams to you, dear -little boy! Good-night! (<em>Rachel watches, unwatched, -the scene. Her eyes are full of yearning</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span> (<em>Going to Tom, who makes believe he does not see -him</em>): Uncle Tom!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> <em>(Jumps as though tremendously startled; Jimmy -laughs</em>): My! how you frightened me. You’ll put my -gizzard out of commission, if you do that often. Well, -sir, what can I do for you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: I came to say good-night.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Gathering Jimmy up in his arms and kissing him; -gently and with emotion</em>) Good-night, dear little Big Fellow! -Good-night!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Jimmy</span>: Sweet dreams! God keep you all the night! (<em>Goes -sedately to Rachel, and holds out his little hand</em>). I’m -ready, Ma Rachel. (<em>Yawns</em>) I’m so nice and sleepy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>With Jimmy’s hand in hers, she hesitates a moment, -and then approaches Tom slowly. For a short -time she stands looking down at him; suddenly leaning -over him</em>): Why, Tom, what a pretty tie! Is it new?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, no, not exactly. I’ve had it about a month. -It is rather a beauty, isn’t it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Why, I never remember seeing it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Laughing</em>): I guess not. I saw to that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Stingy!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well, I am—where my ties are concerned. I’ve had -experience.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Tentatively</em>): Tom!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervously and wistfully</em>): Are you—will you—I -mean, won’t you be home this evening?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: You’ve got a long memory, Sis. I’ve that engagement, -you know. Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): I forgot; so you have.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Hastily</em>): Oh! nothing—nothing. Come on, -Jimmy boy, you can hardly keep those little peepers open, -can you? Come on, honey. (<em>Rachel and Jimmy go out -the rear doorway. There is a silence</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Slowly, as though thinking aloud</em>): I try to -make out what could have happened; but it’s no use—I -can’t. Those four days, she lay in bed hardly moving, -scarcely speaking. Only her eyes seemed alive. I never -saw such a wide, tragic look in my life. It was as though -her soul had been mortally wounded. But how? how? -What could have happened?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span> (<em>Quietly</em>): I don’t know. She generally tells me -everything; but she avoids me now. If we are alone in -a room—she gets out. I don’t know what it means.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: She will hardly let Jimmy out of her sight. -While he’s at school, she’s nervous and excited. She -seems always to be listening, but for what? When he -returns, she nearly devours him. And she always asks -him in a frightened sort of way, her face as pale and tense -as can be: “Well, honey boy, how was school today?” -And he always answers, “Fine, Ma Rachel, fine! I -learned—”; and then he goes on to tell her everything that -has happened. And when he has finished, she says in an -uneasy sort of way: “Is—is that all?” And when he -says “Yes,” she relaxes and becomes limp. After a little -while she becomes feverishly happy. She plays with -Jimmy and the children more than ever she did—and she -played a good deal, as you know. They’re here, or she’s -with them. Yesterday, I said in remonstrance, when she -came in, her face pale and haggard and black hollows under -her eyes: “Rachel, remember you’re just out of a sick-bed. -You’re not well enough to go on like this.” “I -know,” was all she would say, “but I’ve got to. I can’t -help myself. This part of their little lives must be happy—it -just must be.” (<em>Pauses</em>). The last couple of nights, -<ins class="corr" id="tn78" title="Transcriber’s Note—“Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitfully” changed to “Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitifully”.">Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitifully</ins>. -She wouldn’t let me go to him; said I had enough trouble, and -she could quiet him. She never will let me know why he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -cries; but she stays with him, and soothes him until, at -last, he falls asleep again. Every time she has come out -like a rag; and her face is like a dead woman’s. Strange -isn’t it, this is the first time we have ever been able to talk -it over? Tom, what could have happened?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Tom</span>: I don’t know, Ma, but I feel, as you do; something -terrible and sudden has hurt her soul; and, poor little -thing, she’s trying bravely to readjust herself to life again. -(<em>Pauses, looks at his watch and then rises, and goes to -her. He pats her back awkwardly</em>). Well, Ma, I’m going -now. Don’t worry too much. Youth, you know, -gets over things finally. It takes them hard, that’s all—. -At least, that’s what the older heads tell us. (<em>Gets his hat -and stands in the vestibule doorway</em>). Ma, you know, I -begin with John tomorrow. (<em>With emotion</em>) I don’t believe -we’ll ever forget John. Good-night! (<em>Exit. Mrs. -Loving continues to sew. Rachel, her hair arranged, reenters -through the rear doorway. She is humming</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: He’s sleeping like a top. Aren’t little children, -Ma dear, the sweetest things, when they’re all helpless -and asleep? One little hand is under his cheek; and he’s -smiling. (<em>Stops suddenly, biting her lips. A pause</em>) -Where’s Tom?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: He went out a few minutes ago.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Sitting in Tom’s chair and picking up his paper. -She is exceedingly nervous. She looks the paper over -rapidly; presently trying to make her tone casual</em>): Ma,—you—you—aren’t -going anywhere tonight, are you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: I’ve got to go out for a short time about half-past -eight. Mrs. Jordan, you know. I’ll not be gone -very long, though. Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Oh! nothing particular. I just thought it would -be cosy if we could sit here together the rest of the evening. -Can’t you—can’t you go tomorrow?</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Why, I don’t see how I can. I’ve made the -engagement. It’s about a new reception gown; and she’s -exceedingly exacting, as you know. I can’t afford to lose -her.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No, I suppose not. All right, Ma dear. (<em>Presently, -paper in hand, she laughs, but not quite naturally</em>). -Look! Ma dear! How is that for fashion, anyway? Isn’t -it the “limit”? (<em>Rises and shows her mother a picture -in the paper. As she is in the act, the bell rings. -With a startled cry</em>). Oh! (<em>Drops the paper, and grips -her mother’s hand</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span> (<em>Anxiously</em>): Rachel, your nerves are right on -edge; and your hand feels like fire. I’ll have to see a -doctor about you; and that’s all there is to it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Laughing nervously, and moving toward the vestibule</em>). -Nonsense, Ma dear! Just because I let out a -whoop now and then, and have nice warm hands? (<em>Goes -out, is heard talking through the tube</em>) Yes! (<em>Her voice -emitting tremendous relief</em>). Oh! bring it right up! -(<em>Appearing in the doorway</em>) Ma dear, did you buy anything -at Goddard’s today?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes; and I’ve been wondering why they were -so late in delivering it. I bought it early this morning. -(<em>Rachel goes out again. A door opens and shuts. She -reappears with a bundle</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Put it on my bed, Rachel, please. (<em>Exit -Rachel rear doorway; presently returns empty-handed; -sits down again at the table with the paper between -herself and mother; sinks in a deep revery. Suddenly -there is the sound of many loud knocks made by -numerous small fists. Rachel drops the paper, and comes -to a sitting posture, tense again. Her mother looks at -her, but says nothing. Almost immediately Rachel relaxes</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: My kiddies! They’re late, this evening. (<em>Goes -out into the vestibule. A door opens and shuts. There -is the shrill, excited sound of childish voices. Rachel -comes in surrounded by the children, all trying to say -something to her at once. Rachel puts her finger on her -lip and points toward the doorway in the rear. They all -quiet down. She sits on the floor in the front of the -stage, and the children all cluster around her. Their conversation -takes place in a half-whisper. As they enter -they nod brightly at Mrs. Loving, who smiles in return</em>). -Why so late, kiddies? It’s long past “sleepy-time.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Nancy</span>: We’ve been playing “Hide and Seek,” and -having the mostest fun. We promised, all of us, that if -we could play until half-past seven tonight we wouldn’t -make any fuss about going to bed at seven o’clock the rest -of the week. It’s awful hard to go. I <em>hate</em> to go to bed!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Mary</span>, <span class="smcap">Louise</span> and <span class="smcap">Edith</span>: So do I! So do I! So -do I!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span>: I don’t. I love bed. My bed, after my -muzzer tucks me all in, is like a nice warm bag. I just -stick my nose out. When I lifts my head up I can see the -light from the dining-room come in the door. I can hear -my muzzer and fazzer talking nice and low; and then, -before I know it, I’m fast asleep, and I dream pretty -things, and in about a minute it’s morning again. I love -my little bed, and I love to dream.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Mary</span> (<em>Aggressively</em>): Well, I guess I love to dream -too. I wish I could dream, though, without going to bed.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Nancy</span>: When I grow up, I’m never going to bed at -night! (<em>Darkly</em>) You see.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Louise</span>: “Grown-ups” just love to poke their heads -out of windows and cry, “Child’run, it’s time for bed now; -and you’d better hurry, too, I can tell you.” They “sure” -are queer, for sometimes when I wake up, it must be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -about twelve o’clock, I can hear my big sister giggling and -talking to some silly man. If it’s good for me to go to -bed early—I should think—</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Interrupting suddenly</em>): Why, where is my little -Jenny? Excuse me, Louise dear.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span>: Her cold is awful bad. She coughs like -this (<em>giving a distressing imitation</em>) and snuffles all the -time. She can’t talk out loud, and she can’t go to sleep. -Muzzer says she’s fev’rish—I thinks that’s what she says. -Jenny says she knows she could go to sleep, if you would -come and sit with her a little while.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I certainly will. I’ll go when you do, honey.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Little Martha</span> (<em>Softly stroking Rachel’s arm</em>): You’re -the very nicest “grown-up”, (<em>loyally</em>) except my muzzer, -of course, I ever knew. You knows all about little chil’run -and you can be one, although you’re all grown up. -I think you would make a lovely muzzer. (<em>To the rest -of the children</em>) Don’t you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<em>In excited whispers</em>): Yes, I do.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Winces, then says gently</em>): Come, kiddies, you -must go now, or your mothers will blame me for keeping -you. (<em>Rises, as do the rest. Little Martha puts her hand -into Rachel’s</em>). Ma dear, I’m going down to sit a little -while with Jenny. I’ll be back before you go, though. -Come, kiddies, say good-night to my mother.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">All</span> (<em>Gravely</em>): Good-night! Sweet dreams! God keep -you all the night.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Good-night dears! Sweet dreams, all!</p> - -<p class="right">(<em>Exeunt Rachel and the children.</em></p> - -<p class="noindent"><em>Mrs. Loving continues to sew. The bell presently rings -three distinct times. In a few moments, Mrs. Loving -gets up and goes out into the vestibule. A door opens -and closes. Mrs. Loving and John Strong come in. He -is a trifle pale but his imperturbable self. Mrs. Loving,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -somewhat nervous, takes her seat and resumes her sewing. -She motions Strong to a chair. He returns to the vestibule, -leaves his hat, returns, and sits down</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Well, how is everything?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Oh! about the same, I guess. Tom’s out. -John, we’ll never forget you—and your kindness.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: That was nothing. And Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: She’ll be back presently. She went to sit -with a sick child for a little while.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: And how is she?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: She’s not herself yet, but I think she is better.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>After a short pause</em>): Well, what <em>did</em> happen—exactly?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: That’s just what I don’t know.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: When you came home—you couldn’t get in—was -that it?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes. (<em>Pauses</em>). It was just a week ago -today. I was down town all the morning. It was about -one o’clock when I got back. I had forgotten my key. -I rapped on the door and then called. There was no -answer. A window was open, and I could feel the air -under the door, and I could hear it as the draught sucked -it through. There was no other sound. Presently I -made such a noise the people began to come out into the -hall. Jimmy was in one of the flats playing with a little -girl named Mary. He told me he had left Rachel here a -short time before. She had given him four cookies, two -for him and two for Mary, and had told him he could play -with her until she came to tell him his lunch was ready. -I saw he was getting frightened, so I got the little girl -and her mother to keep him in their flat. Then, as no -man was at home, I sent out for help. Three men broke -the door down. (<em>Pauses</em>). We found Rachel unconscious,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -lying on her face. For a few minutes I thought -she was dead. (<em>Pauses</em>). A vase had fallen over on -the table and the water had dripped through the cloth and -onto the floor. There had been flowers in it. When I -left, there were no flowers here. What she could have -done to them, I can’t say. The long stems were lying -everywhere, and the flowers had been ground into the -floor. I could tell that they must have been roses from -the stems. After we had put her to bed and called the -doctor, and she had finally regained consciousness, I very -naturally asked her what had happened. All she would -say was, “Ma dear, I’m too—tired—please.” For four -days she lay in bed scarcely moving, speaking only when -spoken to. That first day, when Jimmy came in to see -her, she shrank away from him. We had to take him out, -and comfort him as best we could. We kept him away, -almost by force, until she got up. And, then, she was -utterly miserable when he was out of her sight. What -happened, I don’t know. She avoids Tom, and she won’t -tell me. (<em>Pauses</em>). Tom and I both believe her soul -has been hurt. The trouble isn’t with her body. You’ll -find her highly nervous. Sometimes she is very much -depressed; again she is feverishly gay—almost reckless. -What do you think about it, John?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Who has listened quietly</em>): Had anybody been -here, do you know?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: No, I don’t. I don’t like to ask Rachel; and -I can’t ask the neighbors.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: No, of course not. (<em>Pauses</em>). You say there -were some flowers?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: And the flowers were ground into the carpet?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Did you happen to notice the box? They must -have come in a box, don’t you think?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Yes, there was a box in the kitchenette. It -was from “Marcy’s.” I saw no card.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): It is rather strange. (<em>A long silence, -during which the outer door opens and shuts. Rachel is -heard singing. She stops abruptly. In a second or two -she appears in the door. There is an air of suppressed -excitement about her</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Hello! John. (<em>Strong rises, nods at her, and brings -forward for her the big arm-chair near the fire</em>). I -thought that was your hat in the hall. It’s brand new, -I know—but it looks—“Johnlike.” How are you? Ma! -Jenny went to sleep like a little lamb. I don’t like her -breathing, though. (<em>Looks from one to the other; flippantly</em>) -Who’s dead? (<em>Nods her thanks to Strong for -the chair and sits down</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Dead, Rachel?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes. The atmosphere here is so funereal,—it’s -positively “crapey.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I don’t know why it should be—I was just asking -how you are.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Heavens! Does the mere inquiry into my health -precipitate such an atmosphere? Your two faces were -as long, as long—(<em>Breaks off</em>). Kind sir, let me assure -you, I am in the very best of health. And how are you, -John?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Oh! I’m always well. (<em>Sits down</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Rachel, I’ll have to get ready to go now. -John, don’t hurry. I’ll be back shortly, probably in three-quarters -of an hour—maybe less.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: And maybe more, if I remember Mrs. Jordan. -However, Ma dear, I’ll do the best I can—while you are -away. I’ll try to be a credit to your training. (<em>Mrs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -Loving smiles and goes out the rear doorway</em>). Now, -let’s see—in the books of etiquette, I believe, the properly -reared young lady, always asks the young gentleman -caller—you’re young enough, aren’t you, to be classed still -as a “young gentleman caller?” (<em>No answer</em>). Well, -anyway, she always asks the young gentleman caller -sweetly something about the weather. (<em>Primly</em>) This -has been an exceedingly beautiful day, hasn’t it, Mr. -Strong? (<em>No answer from Strong, who, with his head -resting against the back of the chair, and his knees -crossed is watching her in an amused, quizzical manner</em>). -Well, really, every properly brought up young gentleman, -I’m sure, ought to know, that it’s exceedingly rude not to -answer a civil question.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Lazily</em>): Tell me what to answer, Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Say, “Yes, Very”; and look interested and pleased -when you say it.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>With a half-smile</em>): Yes, very.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well, I certainly wouldn’t characterize that as a -particularly animated remark. Besides, when you look -at me through half-closed lids like that—and kind of -smile—what are you thinking? (<em>No answer</em>) John -Strong, are you deaf or—just plain stupid?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Plain stupid, I guess.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In wheedling tones</em>): What were you thinking, -John?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): I was thinking—(<em>Breaks off</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Irritably</em>): Well?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I’ve changed my mind.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: You’re not going to tell me?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: No.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>Mrs. Loving dressed for the street comes in</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Loving</span>: Goodbye, children. Rachel, don’t quarrel so -much with John. Let me see—if I have my key. (<em>Feels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -in her bag</em>) Yes, I have it. I’ll be back shortly. Good-bye. -(<em>Strong and Rachel rise. He bows</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Good-bye, Ma dear. Hurry back as soon as you -can, won’t you? (<em>Exit Mrs. Loving through the vestibule. -Strong leans back again in his chair, and watches -Rachel through half-closed eyes. Rachel sits in her chair -nervously</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Do you mind, if I smoke?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: You know I don’t.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: I am trying to behave like—Reginald—“the properly -reared young gentleman caller.” (<em>Lights a cigar; -goes over to the fire, and throws his match away. Rachel -goes into the kitchenette, and brings him a saucer for his -ashes. She places it on the table near him</em>). Thank you. -(<em>They both sit again, Strong very evidently enjoying his -cigar and Rachel</em>). Now this is what I call cosy.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Cosy! Why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: A nice warm room—shut in—curtains drawn—a -cheerful fire crackling at my back—a lamp, not an -electric or gas one, but one of your plain, old-fashioned -kerosene ones—.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Interrupting</em>): Ma dear would like to catch you, -I am sure, talking about <em>her</em> lamp like that. “Old-fashioned! -plain!”—You have nerve.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Continuing as though he had not been interrupted</em>): -A comfortable chair—a good cigar—and not -very far away, a little lady, who is looking charming, so -near, that if I reached over, I could touch her. You there—and -I here.—It’s living.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Well! of all things! A compliment—and from -<em>you</em>! How did it slip out, pray? (<em>No answer</em>). I -suppose that you realize that a conversation between two -persons is absolutely impossible, if one has to do her share -all alone. Soon my ingenuity for introducing interesting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -subjects will be exhausted; and then will follow what, -I believe, the story books call, “an uncomfortable silence.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Slowly</em>): Silence—between friends—isn’t such a -bad thing.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Thanks awfully. (<em>Leans back; cups her cheek -in her hand, and makes no pretense at further conversation. -The old look of introspection returns to her eyes. -She does not move</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Quietly</em>): Rachel! (<em>Rachel starts perceptibly</em>) -You must remember I’m here. I don’t like looking into -your soul—when you forget you’re not alone.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I hadn’t forgotten.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Wouldn’t it be easier for you, little girl, if you -could tell—some one?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: No. (<em>A silence</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Rachel,—you’re fond of flowers,—aren’t you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Rosebuds—red rosebuds—particularly?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Nervously</em>): Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Did you—dislike—the giver?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>More nervously; bracing herself</em>): No, of course -not.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Rachel,—why—why—did you—kill the roses—then?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Twisting her hands</em>): Oh, John! I’m so sorry, -Ma dear told you that. She didn’t know, you sent them.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: So I gathered. (<em>Pauses and then leans forward; -quietly</em>). Rachel, little girl, why—did you kill them?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Breathing quickly</em>): Don’t you believe—it—a—a—kindness—sometimes—to -kill?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>After a pause</em>): You—considered—it—a—kindness—to -kill them?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes. (<em>Another pause</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Do you mean—just—the roses?</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Breathing more quickly</em>): John!—Oh! must I -say?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Yes, little Rachel.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In a whisper</em>): No. (<em>There is a long pause. -Rachel leans back limply, and closes her eyes. Presently -Strong rises, and moves his chair very close to hers. She -does not stir. He puts his cigar on the saucer</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Leaning forward; very gently</em>): Little girl, little -girl, can’t you tell me why?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Wearily</em>): I can’t.—It hurts—too much—to talk -about it yet,—please.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Takes her hand; looks at it a few minutes and -then at her quietly</em>). You—don’t—care, then? (<em>She -winces</em>) Rachel!—Look at me, little girl! (<em>As if -against her will, she looks at him. Her eyes are fearful, -hunted. She tries to look away, to draw away her hand; -but he holds her gaze and her hand steadily</em>). Do you?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Almost sobbing</em>): John! John! don’t ask me. -You are drawing my very soul out of my body with your -eyes. You must not talk this way. You mustn’t look—John, -don’t! (<em>Tries to shield her eyes</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Quietly takes both of her hands, and kisses the -backs and the palms slowly. A look of horror creeps -into her face. He deliberately raises his eyes and looks -at her mouth. She recoils as though she expected him -to strike her. He resumes slowly</em>) If—you—do—care, -and I know now—that you do—nothing else, <em>nothing</em> -should count.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Wrenching herself from his grasp and rising. She -covers her ears; she breathes rapidly</em>): No! No! No!—You -<em>must</em> stop. (<em>Laughs nervously; continues feverishly</em>) -I’m not behaving very well as a hostess, am I? Let’s -see. What shall I do? I’ll play you something, John. -How will that do? Or I’ll sing to you. You used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -like to hear me sing; you said my voice, I remember, was -sympathetic, didn’t you? (<em>Moves quickly to the piano</em>). -I’ll sing you a pretty little song. I think it’s beautiful. -You’ve never heard it, I know. I’ve never sung it to you -before. It’s Nevin’s “At Twilight.” (<em>Pauses, looks -down, before she begins, then turns toward him and says -quietly and sweetly</em>) Sometimes—in the coming years—I -want—you to remember—I sang you this little song.—Will -you?—I think it will make it easier for me—when I—when -I—(<em>Breaks off and begins the first chords. -Strong goes slowly to the piano. He leans there watching -intently. Rachel sings</em>):</p> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“The roses of yester-year</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Were all of the white and red;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">It fills my heart with silent fear</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To find all their beauty fled.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The roses of white are sere,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">All faded the roses red,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And one who loves me is not here</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And one that I love is dead.”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">(<em>A long pause. Then Strong goes to her and lifts her -from the piano-stool. He puts one arm around her very -tenderly and pushes her head back so he can look into her -eyes. She shuts them, but is passive</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Gently</em>): Little girl, little girl, don’t you know that -suggestions—suggestions—like those you are sending -yourself constantly—are wicked things? You, who are so -gentle, so loving, so warm—(<em>Breaks off and crushes her -to him. He kisses her many times. She does not resist, but -in the midst of his caresses she breaks suddenly into convulsive -laughter. He tries to hush the terrible sound with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -his mouth; then brokenly</em>) Little girl—don’t laugh—like -that.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Interrupted throughout by her laughter</em>): I have -to.—God is laughing.—We’re his puppets.—He pulls the -wires,—and we’re so funny to Him.—I’m laughing too—because -I can hear—my little children—weeping. They -come to me generally while I’m asleep,—but I can hear -them now.—They’ve begged me—do you understand?—begged -me—not to bring them here;—and I’ve promised -them—not to.—I’ve promised. I can’t stand the sound -of their crying.—I have to laugh—Oh! John! laugh!—laugh -too!—I can’t drown their weeping.</p> - -<p class="center">(<em>Strong picks her up bodily and carries her to the armchair</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Harshly</em>): Now, stop that!</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>In sheer surprise</em>): W-h-a-t?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Still harshly</em>): Stop that!—You’ve lost your self-control.—find -yourself again!</p> - -<p class="noindent">(<em>He leaves her and goes over to the fireplace, and stands -looking down into it for some little time. Rachel, little -by little, becomes calmer. Strong returns and sits beside -her again. She doesn’t move. He smoothes her hair back -gently, and kisses her forehead—and then, slowly, her -mouth, she does not resist; simply sits there, with shut -eyes, inert, limp</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Rachel!—(<em>Pauses</em>). There is a little flat on 43rd -Street. It faces south and overlooks a little park. Do -you remember it?—it’s on the top floor?—Once I remember -your saying—you liked it. That was over a year ago. -That same day—I rented it. I’ve never lived there. No -one knows about it—not even my mother. It’s completely -furnished now—and waiting—do you know for whom? -Every single thing in it, I’ve bought myself—even to the -pins on the little bird’s-eye maple dresser. It has been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -the happiest year I have ever known. I furnished it—one -room at a time. It’s the prettiest, the most homelike -little flat I’ve ever seen. (<em>Very low</em>) Everything there—breathes -love. Do you know for whom it is waiting? On -the sitting-room floor is a beautiful, Turkish rug—red, and -blue and gold. It’s soft—and rich—and do you know for -whose little feet it is waiting? There are delicate curtains -at the windows and a bookcase full of friendly, eager, -little books.—Do you know for whom they are waiting? -There are comfortable leather chairs, just the right size, -and a beautiful piano—that I leave open—sometimes, and -lovely pictures of Madonnas. Do you know for whom -they are waiting? There is an open fireplace with logs -of wood, all carefully piled on gleaming andirons—and -waiting. There is a bellows and a pair of shining tongs—waiting. -And in the kitchenette painted blue and white, -and smelling sweet with paint is everything: bright pots -and pans and kettles, and blue and white enamel-ware, -and all kinds of knives and forks and spoons—and on the -door—a roller-towel. Little girl, do you know for whom -they are all waiting? And somewhere—there’s a big, -strong man—with broad shoulders. And he’s willing and -anxious to do anything—everything, and he’s waiting very -patiently. Little girl, is it to be—yes or no?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>During Strong’s speech life has come flooding -back to her. Her eyes are shining; her face, eager. For -a moment she is beautifully happy</em>). Oh! you’re too good -to me and mine, John. I—didn’t dream any one—could -be—so good. (<em>Leans forward and puts his big hand -against her cheek and kisses it shyly</em>).</p> - -<p>Strong (<em>Quietly</em>): Is it—yes—or no, little girl?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Feverishly, gripping his hands</em>): Oh, yes! yes! -yes! and take me quickly, John. Take me before I can -think any more. You mustn’t let me think, John. And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -you’ll be good to me, won’t you? Every second of every -minute, of every hour, of every day, you’ll have me in -your thoughts, won’t you? And you’ll be with me every -minute that you can? And, John, John!—you’ll keep -away the weeping of my little children. You won’t let -me hear it, will you? You’ll make me forget everything—everything—won’t -you?—Life is so short, John. (<em>Shivers -and then fearfully and slowly</em>) And eternity so—long. -(<em>Feverishly again</em>) And, John, after I am dead—promise -me, promise me you’ll love me more. (<em>Shivers again</em>). -I’ll need love then. Oh! I’ll need it. (<em>Suddenly there -comes to their ears the sound of a child’s weeping. It is -monotonous, hopeless, terribly afraid. Rachel recoils</em>). -Oh! John!—Listen!—It’s my boy, again.—I—John—I’ll -be back in a little while. (<em>Goes swiftly to the door in the -rear, pauses and looks back. The weeping continues. -Her eyes are tragic. Slowly she kisses her hand to him -and disappears. John stands where she has left him -looking down. The weeping stops. Presently Rachel -appears in the doorway. She is haggard, and grey. She -does not enter the room. She speaks as one dead might -speak—tonelessly, slowly</em>).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Do you wish to know why Jimmy is crying?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: I am twenty-two—and I’m old; you’re thirty-two—and -you’re old; Tom’s twenty-three—and he is old. -Ma dear’s sixty—and she said once she is much older than -that. She is. We are all blighted; we are all accursed—all -of us—, everywhere, we whose skins are dark—our -lives blasted by the white man’s prejudice. (<em>Pauses</em>) -And my little Jimmy—seven years old, that’s all—is -blighted too. In a year or two, at best, he will be made -old by suffering. (<em>Pauses</em>): One week ago, today, some -white boys, older and larger than my little Jimmy, as he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -was leaving the school—called him “Nigger”! They -chased him through the streets calling him, “Nigger! -Nigger! Nigger!” One boy threw stones at him. There -is still a bruise on his little back where one struck him. -That will get well; but they bruised his soul—and that—will -never—get well. He asked me what “Nigger” meant. -I made light of the whole thing, laughed it off. He went -to his little playmates, and very naturally asked them. -The oldest of them is nine!—and they knew, poor -little things—and they told him. (<em>Pauses</em>). For the -last couple of nights he has been dreaming—about -these boys. And he always awakes—in the dark—afraid—afraid—of -the now—and the future—I have seen -that look of deadly fear—in the eyes—of other little -children. I know what it is myself.—I was twelve—when -some big boys chased me and called me names.—I -never left the house afterwards—without being afraid. -I was afraid, in the streets—in the school—in the church, -everywhere, always, afraid of being hurt. And I—was -not—afraid in vain. (<em>The weeping begins again</em>). He’s -only a baby—and he’s blighted. (<em>To Jimmy</em>) Honey, -I’m right here. I’m coming in just a minute. Don’t cry. -(<em>To Strong</em>) If it nearly kills me to hear my Jimmy’s -crying, do you think I could stand it, when my own child, -flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood—learned the same -reason for weeping? Do you? (<em>Pauses</em>). Ever since -I fell here—a week ago—I am afraid—to go—to sleep, -for every time I do—my children come—and beg me—weeping—not -to—bring them here—to suffer. Tonight, -they came—when I was awake. (<em>Pauses</em>). I have -promised them again, now—by Jimmy’s bed. (<em>In a -whisper</em>) I have damned—my soul to all eternity—if I do. -(<em>To Jimmy</em>) Honey, don’t! I’m coming. (<em>To Strong</em>) -And John,—dear John—you see—it can never be—all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -beautiful, beautiful things—you have—told me about. -(<em>Wistfully</em>) No—they—can never be—now. (<em>Strong -comes toward her</em>) No,—John dear,—you—must not—touch -me—any more. (<em>Pauses</em>). Dear, this—is—“Good-bye.”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Quietly</em>): It’s not fair—to you, Rachel, to take -you—at your word—tonight. You’re sick; you’ve brooded -so long, so continuously,—you’ve lost—your perspective. -Don’t answer, yet. Think it over for another week -and I’ll come back.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>Wearily</em>): No,—I can’t think—any more.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: You realize—fully—you’re sending me—for always?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: And you care?</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span>: It’s settled, then for all time—“Good-bye!”</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span> (<em>After a pause</em>): Yes.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Strong</span> (<em>Stands looking at her steadily a long time, and then -moves to the door and turns, facing her; with infinite tenderness</em>): -Good-bye, dear, little Rachel—God bless you.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Rachel</span>: Good-bye, John! (<em>Strong goes out. A door -opens and shuts. There is finality in the sound. The -weeping continues. Suddenly; with a great cry</em>) John! -John! (<em>Runs out into the vestibule. She presently returns. -She is calm again. Slowly</em>) No! No! John. Not -for us. (<em>A pause; with infinite yearning</em>) Oh! John,—if -it only—if it only—(<em>Breaks off, controls herself. -Slowly again; thoughtfully</em>) No—No sunshine—no laughter—always, -always—darkness. That is it. Even our -little flat—(<em>In a whisper</em>) John’s and mine—the little flat—that -calls, calls us—through darkness. It shall wait—and -wait—in vain—in darkness. Oh, John! (<em>Pauses</em>). -And my little children! my little children! (<em>The weeping<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -ceases; pauses</em>). I shall never—see—you—now. -Your little, brown, beautiful bodies—I shall never see.—Your -dimples—everywhere—your laughter—your tears—the -beautiful, lovely feel of you here. (<em>Puts her hands -against her heart</em>). Never—never—to be. (<em>A pause, -fiercely</em>) But you are somewhere—and wherever you are -you are mine! You are mine! All of you! Every bit -of you! Even God can’t take you away. (<em>A pause; very -sweetly; pathetically</em>) Little children!—My little children!—No -more need you come to me—weeping—weeping. -You may be happy now—you are safe. Little weeping, -voices, hush! hush! (<em>The weeping begins again. To -Jimmy, her whole soul in her voice</em>) Jimmy! My little -Jimmy! Honey! I’m coming.—Ma Rachel loves you so. -(<em>Sobs and goes blindly, unsteadily to the rear doorway; -she leans her head there one second against the door; and -then stumbles through and disappears. The light in the -lamp flickers and goes out.... It is black. The terrible, -heart-breaking weeping continues</em>).</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"></div> - -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="center bold">Transcriber’s Notes</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation such as “heart-breaking”/“heartbreaking” -have been maintained.</p> - -<p>Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected -and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the -text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage, -have been retained.</p> -</div> - -<p><a href="#tn47">Page 47</a>: “There is a brief silence interruped” changed to “There is a brief silence interrupted”.</p> - -<p><a href="#tn62">Page 62</a>: “I didn’t belive” changed to “I didn’t believe”.</p> - -<p><a href="#tn78">Page 78</a>: “Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitfully” changed to “Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitifully”.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RACHEL: A PLAY IN THREE ACTS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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