Rachel: I do—that’s all.
Tom: Ma, if you saw him just once, you’d understand. No one likes him. But, then, what can you expect? His 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. (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).
Tom (Continuing hastily and clumsily): Well, anyway, he called me “Nigger” today. If his face isn’t black, his eye is.
Rachel: Good! Oh! Why did you let the other one go?
Tom (Grinning): I knew he said things behind my back; but today he was hopping mad, because I made quarter-back. He didn’t!
Rachel: Oh, Tommy! How lovely! Ma dear, did you hear that? (Chants) Our Tommy’s on the team! Our Tommy’s on the team!
Tom (Trying not to appear pleased): Ma dear, what did I say about er—er “capital” enlargements?
Mrs. Loving (Smiling): You’re right, Son.
Tom: I hope you got that “capital,” Rachel. How’s that for Latin knowledge? Eh?
Rachel: I don’t think much of your knowledge, Tommy dear; but (continuing to chant) Our Tommy’s on the team! Our Tommy’s on the team! Our—(Breaks off). I’ve a good mind to kiss you.