John. Here, take some money and get a good doctor. There must be some good colored ones around here now.
Emma (scornfully). I wouldn’t let one of ’em tend my cat if I had one! But let’s we don’t start a fuss.
(John caresses her again. When he raises his head he notices the picture on the wall and crosses over to it with her—his arm still about her.)
John. Why, that’s you and me!
Emma. Yes, I never could part with that. You coming tomorrow morning, John, and we’re gointer get married, aint we? Then we can talk over everything.
John. Sure, but I aint gone yet. I don’t see how come we can’t make all our arrangements now.
(Groans from bed and feeble movement.)
Good lord, Emma, go get that doctor!
(Emma stares at the girl and the bed and seizes a hat from a nail on the wall. She prepares to go but looks from John to bed and back again. She fumbles about the table and lowers the lamp. Goes to door and opens it. John offers the wallet. She refuses it.)
Emma. Doctor right around the corner. Guess I’ll leave the door open so she can get some air. She won’t need nothing while I’m gone, John. (She crosses and tucks the girl in securely and rushes out, looking backward and pushing the door wide open as she exits. John sits in the chair beside the table. Looks about him—shakes his head. The girl on the bed groans, “water,” “so hot.” John looks about him excitedly. Gives her a drink. Feels her forehead. Takes a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wets it and places it upon her forehead. She raises her hand to the cool object. Enter Emma running. When she sees John at the bed she is full of fury. She rushes over and jerks his shoulder around. They face each other.)