Little Nancy: I’ll tell you sometime—I hate him.
Little Edith: Where’s Jimmy, Miss Rachel?
Rachel: He went long ago; and chickies, you’ll have to clear out, all of you, now, or you’ll be late. Shoo! Shoo! (She drives them out prettily before her. They laugh merrily. They all go into the vestibule).
Tom (Slowly): Does it ever strike you—how pathetic and tragic a thing—a little colored child is?
Strong: Yes.
Tom: 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? (Rachel reenters. Her face is drawn and pale. She returns to the kitchenette.)
Strong (Slowly, with emphasis): That part—is damnable! (A silence.)
Tom (Suddenly looking at the clock): It’s later than I thought. I’ll have to be pulling out of here now, if you don’t mind. (Raising his voice) Rachel! (Rachel still drawn and pale, appears in the doorway of the kitchenette. She is without her apron). I’ve got to go now, Sis. I leave John in your hands.
Strong: I’ve got to go, myself, in a few minutes.
Tom: Nonsense, man! Sit still. I’ll begin to think, in a minute, you’re afraid of the ladies.