Emma. Soon, John?
John. Real soon.
Emma. Ah wuz jus’ thinkin’, mah folks is away now on a little trip—be home day after tomorrow—we could git married tomorrow.
John. All right. Now run on after the doctor—we must look after our girl. Gee, she’s got a full suit of hair! Glad you didn’t let her chop it off. (Looks away from bed and sees Emma standing still.)
John. Emma, run on after the doctor, honey. (She goes to the bed and again tucks the long braids of hair in, which are again pouring over the side of the bed by the feverish tossing of the girl.) What’s our daughter’s name?
Emma. Lou Lillian. (She returns to the rocker uneasily and sits rocking jerkily. He returns to his seat and turns up the light.)
John. Gee, we’re going to be happy—we gointer make up for all them twenty years (another groan). Emma, git up an’ gwan git dat doctor. You done forgot Ah’m de boss uh dis family now—gwan, while Ah’m here to watch her whilst you’re gone. Ah got to git back to mah stoppin’-place after a while.
Emma. You go git one, John.
John. Whilst Ah’m blunderin’ round tryin’ to find one, she’ll be gettin’ worse. She sounds pretty bad—(takes out his wallet and hands her a bill)—get a taxi if necessary. Hurry!
Emma (does not take the money, but tucks her arms and hair in again, and gives the girl a drink). Reckon Ah better go git a doctor. Don’t want nothin’ to happen to her. After you left, Ah useter have such a hurtin’ in heah (touches bosom) till she come an’ eased it some.