Mrs. Lane (In a sharp, but toneless voice): May I sit down? I’m tired.
Rachel (Puzzled, but gracious; draws up a chair for her): Why, certainly.
Mrs. Lane: No, you don’t know me—never even heard of me—nor I of you. I was looking at the vacant flat on this floor—and saw your name—on your door,—“Loving!” It’s a strange name to come across—in this world.—I thought, perhaps, you might give me some information. (The child hides behind her mother and looks around at Rachel in a frightened way).
Rachel (Smiling at the woman and child in a kindly manner): I’ll be glad to tell you anything, I am able Mrs.—
Mrs. Lane: Lane. What I want to know is, how do they treat the colored children in the school I noticed around the corner? (The child clutches at her mother’s dress).
Rachel (Perplexed): Very well—I’m sure.
Mrs. Lane (Bluntly): What reason have you for being sure?
Rachel: Why, the little boy I’ve adopted goes there; and he’s very happy. All the children in this apartment-house go there too; and I know they’re happy.
Mrs. Lane: Do you know how many colored children there are in the school?
Rachel: Why, I should guess around thirty.