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.
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.)
Emma. I knowed it! (She strikes him.) A half white skin. (She rushes at him again. John staggers back and catches her hands.)
John. Emma!
Emma (struggles to free her hands). Let me go so I can kill you. Come sneaking in here like a pole cat!
John (slowly, after a long pause). So this is the woman I've been wearing over my heart like a rose for twenty years! She so despises her own skin that she can't believe any one else could love it!
(Emma writhes to free herself.)
John. Twenty years! Twenty years of adoration, of hunger, of worship! (On the verge of tears he crosses to door and exits quietly, closing the door after him.)
(Emma remains standing, looking dully about as if she is half asleep. There comes a knocking at the door. She rushes to open it. It is the doctor. White. She does not step aside so that he can enter.
Doctor. Well, shall I come in?
Emma (stepping aside and laughing a little). That's right, doctor, come in.
(Doctor crosses to bed with professional air. Looks at the girl, feels the pulse and draws up the sheet over the face. He turns to her.)
Doctor. Why didn't you come sooner. I told you to let me know of the least change in her condition.
Emma (flatly). I did come—I went for the doctor.
Doctor. Yes, but you waited. An hour more or less is mighty important sometimes. Why didn't you come?
Emma (passes hand over face). Couldn't see.
(Doctor looks at her curiously, then sympathetically takes out a small box of pills, and hands them to her.) Here, you're worn out. Take one of these every hour and try to get some sleep. (He departs.)
(She puts the pill-box on the table, takes up the low rocking chair and places it by the head of the bed. She seats herself and rocks monotonously and stares out of the door. A dry sob now and then. The wind from the open door blows out the lamp and she is seen by the little light from the window rocking in an even, monotonous gait, and sobbing.)
