Rachel: He’s sleeping like a top. Aren’t little children, Ma dear, the sweetest things, when they’re all helpless and asleep? One little hand is under his cheek; and he’s smiling. (Stops suddenly, biting her lips. A pause) Where’s Tom?
Mrs. Loving: He went out a few minutes ago.
Rachel (Sitting in Tom’s chair and picking up his paper. She is exceedingly nervous. She looks the paper over rapidly; presently trying to make her tone casual): Ma,—you—you—aren’t going anywhere tonight, are you?
Mrs. Loving: I’ve got to go out for a short time about half-past eight. Mrs. Jordan, you know. I’ll not be gone very long, though. Why?
Rachel: Oh! nothing particular. I just thought it would be cosy if we could sit here together the rest of the evening. Can’t you—can’t you go tomorrow?
Mrs. Loving: Why, I don’t see how I can. I’ve made the engagement. It’s about a new reception gown; and she’s exceedingly exacting, as you know. I can’t afford to lose her.
Rachel: No, I suppose not. All right, Ma dear. (Presently, paper in hand, she laughs, but not quite naturally). Look! Ma dear! How is that for fashion, anyway? Isn’t it the “limit”? (Rises and shows her mother a picture in the paper. As she is in the act, the bell rings. With a startled cry). Oh! (Drops the paper, and grips her mother’s hand).
Mrs. Loving (Anxiously): Rachel, your nerves are right on edge; and your hand feels like fire. I’ll have to see a doctor about you; and that’s all there is to it.
Rachel (Laughing nervously, and moving toward the vestibule). Nonsense, Ma dear! Just because I let out a whoop now and then, and have nice warm hands? (Goes out, is heard talking through the tube) Yes! (Her voice emitting tremendous relief). Oh! bring it right up! (Appearing in the doorway) Ma dear, did you buy anything at Goddard’s today?
Mrs. Loving: Yes; and I’ve been wondering why they were so late in delivering it. I bought it early this morning. (Rachel goes out again. A door opens and shuts. She reappears with a bundle).