Emma. Cause, cause all them girls is going to pulling and hauling on you, and—
John (impatiently). Shucks! Come on. Don’t you hear the people clapping for us and calling our names? Come on!
(He tries to pull her up—she tries to drag him back.)
Come on, Emma! Taint no sense in your acting like this. The band is playing for us. Hear ’em? (He moves feet in a dance step.)
Emma. Naw, John, Ah’m skeered. I loves you—I—.
(He tries to break away from her. She is holding on fiercely.)
John. I got to go! I been practising almost a year—I—we done come all the way down here. I can walk the cake, Emma—we got to—I got to go in! (He looks into her face and sees her tremendous fear.) What you skeered about?
Emma (hopefully). You won’t go in—You’ll come on go home with me all by ourselves. Come on John. I can’t, I just can’t go in there and see all them girls—Effie hanging after you—.
John. I got to go in—(he removes her hand from his coat)—whether you come with me or not.
Emma. Oh—them yaller wenches! How I hate ’em! They gets everything they wants—.