Rachel (Without raising her eyes, quietly): I know I’m not old; but, just the same I know that is true. (Softly) And I’m so sorry for the mothers.
Mrs. Loving (With a forced laugh): 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.
Rachel: That’s just it—that’s how you know. They don’t talk at all.
Mrs. Loving (Involuntarily): Oh! (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”)—
Sweetest li’l feller,
Ev’rybody knows;
Dunno what to call him,
But he mighty lak’ a rose!
Lookin’ at his Mammy
Wid eyes so shiny blue,