Mrs. Lane: I see. (Pauses). What color is this little adopted boy of yours?
Rachel (Gently): Why—he’s brown.
Mrs. Lane: Any black children there?
Rachel (Nervously): Why—yes.
Mrs. Lane: Do you mind if I send Ethel over by the piano to sit?
Rachel: N—no, certainly not. (Places a chair by the piano and goes to the little girl holding out her hand. She smiles beautifully. The child gets farther behind her mother).
Mrs. Lane: She won’t go to you—she’s afraid of everybody now but her father and me. Come Ethel. (Mrs. Lane takes the little girl by the hand and leads her to the chair. In a gentler voice) Sit down, Ethel. (Ethel obeys. When her mother starts back again toward Rachel, she holds out her hands pitifully. She makes no sound). I’m not going to leave you, Ethel. I’ll be right over here. You can see me. (The look of agony on the child’s face, as her mother leaves her, makes Rachel shudder). Do you mind if we sit over here by the sewing-machine? Thank you. (They move their chairs).
Rachel (Looking at the little, pitiful figure watching its mother almost unblinkingly): Does Ethel like apples, Mrs. Lane?
Mrs. Lane: Yes.
Rachel: Do you mind if I give her one?