Mrs. Loving: Just life, my little chickabiddy!
Rachel: Is life so terrible? I had found it mostly beautiful. How can life be terrible, when the world is full of little children?
Mrs. Loving (Very sadly): Oh, Rachel! Rachel!
Rachel: Ma dear, what have I said?
Mrs. Loving (Forcing a smile): 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. (Pauses). 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.
Rachel (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). Where is the money, Ma dear? I’m ready.
Mrs. Loving: Before you go, Rachel, just give a look at the meat and see if it is cooking all right, will you, dearie?
Rachel (Goes out into the kitchenette and presently returns): It’s all right, Ma dear.
Mrs. Loving (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): 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 you like, Chickabiddy. Let’s have a party tonight, I feel extravagant. Why, Rachel! why are you crying?
Rachel: Nothing, dear Ma dear. I’ll be all right when I get in the air. Goodbye! (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).