The Lady. You mustn’t feel so, you mustn’t! God is kind and good and merciful. He will forgive you—Ask Him to!
The Girl. I did ask Him to—lots o’ times. It don’ do no good. I aint sorry! Everybody says you gotta feel sorry, an’ I aint. A girl kid’s better dead, I tell ye! That’s why I done it. I loved it, ’fore it came, ’cause it was hisn. After I done it nothin’ mattered—nothin’! So I—And I gotta die soon—what’s gona happen?
(During the preceding the sound of a tambourine and singing has been heard outside. As the girl cries out the last words, the Lady, finding no answer, goes to the window. She has a sudden thought.)
The Lady. I’ll be back in a moment! (She goes out.)
(Nothing is heard but the girl’s sobs for a moment. Then the Lady ushers in a Salvation Army Lassie—her tambourine held tightly, but jingling a little. She stands embarrassed by the foot of the bed. The Girl stares at her.)
The Girl. I know them kind too.
The Lassie. Can’t I do something for you?
The Girl. No—not now—You’re a good sort enough—but—I aint sorry—I tell ye—I aint, I aint!
The Lassie (to Lady). What d’ye want me for? What’ll I do?
The Lady. Couldn’t you sing something brave and cheerful? You were singing so nicely out there.