Mrs. Lane (Laughs grimly): Ten years! Every year things are getting worse. Last year wasn’t as bad as this. (Pauses.) So they treat the children all right in this school?
Rachel: Yes! Yes! I know that.
Mrs. Lane: I can’t afford to take this flat here, but I’ll take it. I’m going to have Ethel educated. Although, when you think of it,—it’s all rather useless—this education! What are our children going to do with it, when they get it? We strive and save and sacrifice to educate them—and the whole time—down underneath, we know—they’ll have no chance.
Rachel (Sadly): Yes, that’s true, all right.—God seems to have forgotten us.
Mrs. Lane: God! It’s all a lie about God. I know.—This fall I sent Ethel to a white Sunday-school near us. She received the same treatment there she did in the day school. Her being there, nearly broke up the school. At the end, the superintendent called her to him and asked her if she didn’t know of some nice colored Sunday-school. He told her she must feel out of place, and uncomfortable there. That’s your Church of God!
Rachel: Oh! how unspeakably brutal. (Controls herself with an effort; after a pause) Have you any other children?
Mrs. Lane (Dryly): Hardly! If I had another—I’d kill it. It’s kinder. (Rising presently) Well, I must go, now. Thank you, for your information—and for listening. (Suddenly) You aren’t married, are you?
Rachel: No.
Mrs. Lane: Don’t marry—that’s my advice. Come, Ethel. (Ethel gets up and puts down the things in her lap, carefully upon her chair. She goes in a hurried, timid way to her mother and clutches her hand). Say good-bye to the lady.
Ethel (Faintly): Good-bye.