| John | A light brown-skinned man | |
| Emmaline | A black woman | |
| Wesley | A boy who plays an accordion | |
| Emmaline’s Daughter | A very white girl | |
| Effie | A mulatto girl | |
| A Railway Conductor | ||
| A Doctor |
Several who play mouth organs, guitars, banjos.
Dancers, passengers, etc.
Setting.—Early night. The inside of a “Jim Crow” railway coach. The car is parallel to the footlights. The seats on the down stage side of the coach are omitted. There are the luggage racks above the seats. The windows are all open. There are exits in each end of the car—right and left.
Action.—Before the curtain goes up there is the sound of a locomotive whistle and a stopping engine, loud laughter, many people speaking at once, good-natured shrieks, strumming of stringed instruments, etc. The ascending curtain discovers a happy lot of Negroes boarding the train dressed in the gaudy, tawdry best of 1900. They are mostly in couples—each couple bearing a covered-over market basket which the men hastily deposit in the racks as they scramble for seats. There is a little friendly pushing and shoving. One pair just miss a seat three times, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. Many “plug” silk hats are in evidence, also sun-flowers in button holes. The women are showily dressed in the manner of the time, and quite conscious of their finery. A few seats remain unoccupied.
Enter Effie (left) above, with a basket. One of the Men (standing, lifting his “plug” in a grand manner). Howdy do, Miss Effie, you’se lookin’ jes lak a rose.
(Effie blushes and is confused. She looks up and down for a seat.) Fack is, if you wuzn’t walkin’ long, ah’d think you wuz a rose—(he looks timidly behind her and the others laugh). Looka here, where’s Sam at?
Effie (tossing her head haughtily). I don’t know an’ I don’t keer.
The Man (visibly relieved). Then lemme scorch you to a seat. (He takes her basket and leads her to a seat center of the car, puts the basket in the rack and seats himself beside her with his hat at a rakish angle.)
Man (sliding his arm along the back of the seat). How come Sam ain’t heah—y’ll on a bust?