STRONG: Tom, I came--(_Breaks off; continuing slowly_) Six years ago, I found I was up against a stone wall--your experience, you see, to the letter. I couldn’t let my mother starve, so I became a waiter. (_Pauses_). I studied waiting; I made a science of it, an art. In a comparatively short time, I’m a head-waiter and I’m up against another stonewall. I’ve reached my limit. I’m thirty-two now, and I’ll die a head-waiter. (_A pause_). College friends, so-called, and acquaintances used to come into the restaurant. One or two at first--attempted to commiserate with me. They didn’t do it again. I waited upon them--I did my best. Many of them tipped me. (_Pauses and smiles grimly_). I can remember my first tip, still. They come in yet; many of them are already powers, not only in this city, but in the country. Some of them make a personal request that I wait upon them. I am an artist, now, in my proper sphere. They tip me well, extremely well--the larger the tip, the more pleased they are with me. Because of me, in their own eyes, they’re philanthropists. Amusing, isn’t it? I can stand their attitude now. My philosophy--learned hard, is to make the best of everything you can, and go on. At best, life isn’t so very long. You’re wondering why I’m telling you all this. I wish you to see things exactly as they are. There are many disadvantages and some advantages in being a waiter. My mother can live comfortably; I am able, even, to see that she gets some of the luxuries. Tom, it’s this way--I can always get you a job as a waiter; I’ll teach you the art. If you care to begin the end of the week--all right. And remember this, as long as I keep my job--this offer holds good.
TOM: I--I--(_Breaks off_) Thank you. (_A pause; then smiling wryly_) I guess it’s safe enough to say, you’ll see me at the end of the week. John you’re--(_Breaking off again. A silence interrupted presently by the sound of much vigorous rapping on the outer door of the flat. Rachel appears and crosses over to the vestibule_). Hear the racket! My kiddies gently begging for admittance. It’s about twenty minutes of nine, isn’t it? (_Tom nods_). I thought so. (_Goes into the entryway; presently reappears with a group of six little girls ranging in age from five to about nine. All are fighting to be close to her; and all are talking at once. There is one exception: the smallest tot is self-possessed and self-sufficient. She carries a red geranium in her hand and gives it her full attention_).