Woman. No mo' right away—Doctor says not too much. (Returns dipper to pail—Pause.) You got right much fever—I better go git the doctor agin.

(There comes a knocking at the door and she stands still for a moment, listening. It comes again and she goes to door but does not open it.)

Woman. Who's that?

Voice Outside. Does Emma Beasely live here?

Emma. Yeah—(pause)—who is it?

Voice. It's me—John Turner.

Emma (puts hands eagerly on the fastening). John? did you say John Turner?

Voice. Yes, Emma, it's me.

(The door is opened and the man steps inside.)

Emma. John! Your hand (she feels for it and touches it). John flesh and blood.

John (laughing awkwardly). It's me alright, old girl. Just as bright as a basket of chips. Make a light quick so I can see how you look. I'm crazy to see you. Twenty years is a long time to wait, Emma.

Emma (nervously). Oh, let's we all just sit in the dark awhile. (Apologetically.) I wasn't expecting nobody and my house aint picked up. Sit down. (She draws up the chair. She sits in rocker.)

John. Just to think! Emma! Me and Emma sitting down side by each. Know how I found you?

Emma (dully). Naw. How?

John (brightly). Soons I got in town I hunted up Wesley and he told me how to find you. That's who I come to see, you!

Emma. Where you been all these years, up North somewheres? Nobody round here could find out where you got to.

John. Yes, up North. Philadelphia.

Emma. Married yet?

John. Oh yes, seventeen years ago. But my wife is dead now and so I came as soon as it was decent to find you. I wants to marry you. I couldn't die happy if I didn't. Couldn't get over you—couldn't forget. Forget me, Emma?

Emma. Naw, John. How could I?

John (leans over impulsively to catch her hand). Oh, Emma, I love you so much. Strike a light honey so I can see you—see if you changed much. You was such a handsome girl!

Emma. We don't exactly need no light, do we, John, tuh jus' set an' talk?

John. Yes, we do, Honey. Ah wanna see you. Gwan, make a light.

(There is a silence.)

Emma. Bet you' wife wuz some high-yaller dickty-doo.

John. Naw she wasn't neither. She was jus' as much like you as Ah could get her. Make a light an' Ah'll show you her pictcher. Shucks, ah gotta look at mah old sweetheart. (He strikes a match and holds it up between their faces and they look intently at each other over it until it burns out.) You aint changed none atall, Emma, jus' as pretty as a speckled pup yet.

Emma (lighter). Go long, John! (Short pause) 'member how you useter bring me magnolias?

John. Do I? Gee, you was sweet! 'Member how Ah useter pull mah necktie loose so you could tie it back for me? Emma, Ah can't see to mah soul how we lived all this time, way from one another. 'Member how you useter make out mah ears had done run down and you useter screw 'em up agin for me? (They laugh.)

Emma. Yeah, Ah useter think you wuz gointer be mah husban' then—but you let dat ole—.

John. Ah aint gonna let you alibi on me lak dat. Light dat lamp! You cain't lock me in de eye and say no such. (He strikes another match and lights the lamp.) Course, Ah don't wanta look too bossy, but Ah b'lieve you got to marry me tuh git rid of me. That is, if you aint married.

Emma. Naw, Ah aint. (She turns the lamp down.)

John (looking about the room). Not so good, Emma. But wait till you see dat little place in Philly! Got a little "Rolls-Rough," too—gointer teach you to drive it, too.

Emma. Ah been havin' a hard time, John, an' Ah lost you—oh, aint nothin' been right for me! Ah aint never been happy.

(John takes both of her hands in his.)

John. You gointer be happy now, Emma. Cause Ah'm gointer make you. Gee Whiz! Ah aint but forty-two and you aint forty yet—we got plenty time. (There is a groan from the bed.) Gee, what's that?

Emma (ill at ease). Thass mah chile. She's sick. Reckon Ah bettah see 'bout her.

John. You got a chile? Gee, that great! Ah always wanted one. but didn't have no luck. Now we kin start off with a family. Girl or boy?

Emma (slowly). A girl. Comin' tuh see me agin soon, John?

John. Comin' agin? Ah aint gone yet! We aint talked, you aint kissed me an' nothin', and you aint showed me our girl. (Another groan, more prolonged.) She must be pretty sick—let's see. (He turns in his chair and Emma rushes over to the bed and covers the girl securely, tucking her long hair under the covers, too—before he arises. He goes over to the bed and looks down into her face. She is mulatto. Turns to Emma teasingly.) Talkin' 'bout me liking high-yallers—yo husband musta been pretty near white.

Emma (slowly). Ah, never wuz married, John.

John. It's alright, Emma. (Kisses her warmly.) Everything is going to be O.K. (Turning back to the bed.) Our child looks pretty sick, but she's pretty. (Feels her forehead and cheek.) Think she oughter have a doctor.

Emma. Ah done had one. Course Ah cain't git no specialist an' nothin' lak dat. (She looks about the room and his gaze follows hers.) Ah aint got a whole lot lake you., Nobody don't git rich in no white-folks' kitchen, nor in de washtub. You know Ah aint no school-teacher an' nothin' lak dat.

(John puts his arm about her.)

John. It's all right, Emma. But our daughter is bad off—run out an' git a doctor—she needs one. Ah'd go if Ah knowed where to find one—you kin git one the quickest—hurry, Emma.

Emma (looks from John to her daughter and back again.) She'll be all right, Ah reckon, for a while. John, you love me—you really want me sho' nuff?

John. Sure Ah do—think Ah'd come all de way down here for nothin'? Ah wants to marry agin.

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. Al 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 ofthe 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.)