MISS MORGAN: He has been unemployed ever since? For eight or nine years?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: For eight or nine years. No jobs.

MISS MORGAN: Was he—incapacitated—I mean—was anything wrong with your husband?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: His head was no good. He couldn’t remember no more.

MISS MORGAN: I see. His mind was affected. Now has he received hospital or institutional treatment of any kind during this period, Mrs. Pocciotti?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: He comes home, he goes back, he comes home.

MISS MORGAN: From the City Sanitarium?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Yes.

MISS MORGAN: Where is he now?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: City Sanitarium.

MISS MORGAN: I see.

MRS. POCCIOTTI: His head is no good. [With her broom she has fished a lead spoon from under the stove. She stoops, grunting, and places it on the table.]

MISS MORGAN: Let’s see now—your sons?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Sons? Frank and Tony went off. Was never no good those boys. Tony Chicago, Frank—I think I don’t know. I don’t know those boys no more where they go, what they do, married or working or nothing, those boys I don’t know!

MISS MORGAN: Oh! You don’t hear from them. What are the others doing?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Lucio, Silva, the young ones, still are in school.

MISS MORGAN: They’re attending grade school?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Still are in school.

MISS MORGAN: I see. And you have a daughter?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: One girl.

MISS MORGAN: She’s also unemployed?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: No, she don’t work.

MISS MORGAN: Her name and age, please.

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Name Tina. How old she is? She come right after the last boy, soon as the boys make room comes the girl.

MISS MORGAN: Shall we say that her age is fifteen?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Fifteen.

MISS MORGAN: I see. I would like to talk to your daughter, Mrs. Pocciotti.

MRS. POCCIOTTI [sweeping with sudden vigor]: Talk to her?

MISS MORGAN: Yes. Where is she?

MRS. POCCIOTTI [points to closed door]: In there.

MISS MORGAN [rising]: May I see her now?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: No. Don’t go in. She don’t like it.

MISS MORGAN [stiffening]: She doesn’t like it?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: No.

MISS MORGAN: Why not? Is your daughter sick?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Wharsamatter with her, I dunno. She don’t want nobody to go in the room with her, and she don’t want the light turned on. She wants it to be always dark.

MISS MORGAN: Dark? Always dark? Really? What do you mean?

MRS. POCCIOTTI [with confused gesture]: Dark!

MISS MORGAN: Will you try to be more cooperative in your answers to questions?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: What?

MISS MORGAN [excitedly]: Is anything wrong with this girl?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Wrong? No—I dunno.

MISS MORGAN: And yet you say that she confines herself to a dark room and wishes to be left alone?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Yes.

MISS MORGAN: Well, of course that isn’t a perfectly normal condition for a young girl to be in. Do you realize that?

MRS. POCCIOTTI [slowly shaking her head]: No.

MISS MORGAN [snapping]: How long has this been going on?