Reb. Oh, it’s a shame?
Clara. Dat’s what I say; it’s a shame. De idea ob dose dog-goned niggers throwing a quarry at de house to make us aware of deir whereabouts.
Reb. Oh, it wasn’t your lover dat trew da brick; you needn’t growl.
Clara. No, I don’t tink it was; I guess it must ha’ been your Pete; he’s so strong he could trow it wif his breff. Dere!
[She throws the brick at Rebecca’s foot. Rebecca hits her on the head with the brick she had. They each pick up the bricks to throw them at each other, when Pete and Ike appear. Rebecca and Clara spy them and throw the bricks at them, hitting them. Pete and Ike howl and retire.
Clara. Ha—ha! did you see me hit him?
Reb. I guess dat ought to teach dem to be more civil to deir superiors.
Clara. Yes; dey said dey’d gib us de grand surprise. I don’t tink dey did.
Reb. (Tearfully.) Yes; but I forgib dem. You know how I love Peter Holloway. [Covers her face with apron.