MRS. LOVING: The sweetest of sweet dreams to you, dear little boy! Good-night! (_Rachel watches, unwatched, the scene. Her eyes are full of yearning_).
JIMMY (_Going to Tom, who makes believe he does not see him_): Uncle Tom!
TOM _(Jumps as though tremendously startled; Jimmy laughs_): My! how you frightened me. You’ll put my gizzard out of commission, if you do that often. Well, sir, what can I do for you?
TOM (_Gathering Jimmy up in his arms and kissing him; gently and with emotion_) Good-night, dear little Big Fellow! Good-night!
JIMMY: Sweet dreams! God keep you all the night! (_Goes sedately to Rachel, and holds out his little hand_). I’m ready, Ma Rachel. (_Yawns_) I’m so nice and sleepy.
RACHEL (_With Jimmy’s hand in hers, she hesitates a moment, and then approaches Tom slowly. For a short time she stands looking down at him; suddenly leaning over him_): Why, Tom, what a pretty tie! Is it new?
TOM: Well, no, not exactly. I’ve had it about a month. It is rather a beauty, isn’t it?
TOM (_Laughing_): I guess not. I saw to that.
TOM: Well, I am--where my ties are concerned. I’ve had experience.
RACHEL (_Nervously and wistfully_): Are you--will you--I mean, won’t you be home this evening?
TOM: You’ve got a long memory, Sis. I’ve that engagement, you know. Why?
RACHEL (_Slowly_): I forgot; so you have.
RACHEL (_Hastily_): Oh! nothing--nothing. Come on, Jimmy boy, you can hardly keep those little peepers open, can you? Come on, honey. (_Rachel and Jimmy go out the rear doorway. There is a silence_).
MRS. LOVING (_Slowly, as though thinking aloud_): I try to make out what could have happened; but it’s no use--I can’t. Those four days, she lay in bed hardly moving, scarcely speaking. Only her eyes seemed alive. I never saw such a wide, tragic look in my life. It was as though her soul had been mortally wounded. But how? how? What could have happened?
TOM (_Quietly_): I don’t know. She generally tells me everything; but she avoids me now. If we are alone in a room--she gets out. I don’t know what it means.
MRS. LOVING: She will hardly let Jimmy out of her sight. While he’s at school, she’s nervous and excited. She seems always to be listening, but for what? When he returns, she nearly devours him. And she always asks him in a frightened sort of way, her face as pale and tense as can be: “Well, honey boy, how was school today?” And he always answers, “Fine, Ma Rachel, fine! I learned--”; and then he goes on to tell her everything that has happened. And when he has finished, she says in an uneasy sort of way: “Is--is that all?” And when he says “Yes,” she relaxes and becomes limp. After a little while she becomes feverishly happy. She plays with Jimmy and the children more than ever she did--and she played a good deal, as you know. They’re here, or she’s with them. Yesterday, I said in remonstrance, when she came in, her face pale and haggard and black hollows under her eyes: “Rachel, remember you’re just out of a sick-bed. You’re not well enough to go on like this.” “I know,” was all she would say, “but I’ve got to. I can’t help myself. This part of their little lives must be happy--it just must be.” (_Pauses_). The last couple of nights, Jimmy has awakened and cried most pitifully. She wouldn’t let me go to him; said I had enough trouble, and she could quiet him. She never will let me know why he cries; but she stays with him, and soothes him until, at last, he falls asleep again. Every time she has come out like a rag; and her face is like a dead woman’s. Strange isn’t it, this is the first time we have ever been able to talk it over? Tom, what could have happened?