LAURA [angrily]: I got them at the five and ten cent store!

AMANDA: Why, Laura, I thought—Why, I thought surely some rich old man had given them to you! [To Jim.] Neither of my children have any humor. In spite of the fact that I was always laughing as a girl, so much so that the Presbyterians in Blue Mountain thought my soul was damned! And their father—well—excessive sobriety was never his characteristic! He had charm, I’ll have to say that for him. One poor girl was certainly swept off her feet. Tom, give Mr. Delaney that nice crisp piece off the end, and put a little parsley on each plate. It isn’t put there just for ornamentation. My grandfather used to say, “Grass is only for cows!”—when given lettuce. A brilliant old gentleman!— Ran for Senator of Alabama! But—drank! Laura, please sit up straight at the table, don’t hunch over like that! Both of you children, sit up straight at the table. [Reaches over to give them each a pat.]

LAURA [icily]: Mother—please!

AMANDA: Just look at Mr. Delaney and copy his posture. See how straight he is sitting! I think it’s a mark of character, sitting up straight at the table. Mr. Delaney—Jim—I bet you’ve had some military training.

JIM: I haven’t yet, Mrs. Wingfield. But from what you see in the papers, it looks like I might get some pretty soon.

AMANDA [throwing up her hands]: Oh! Don’t talk about it! If there’s a war and this country’s drawn into it, I’ll just die!— Just!— die!

TOM: Don’t make rash promises, Mother.

AMANDA: No, I mean it. If Tom had to go off to war—!

JIM: I don’t think Shakespeare would ever get in the army.

AMANDA: No? Why not?

JIM: Well—he’s the dreamy type that wouldn’t be useful.

AMANDA: The dreamy type! Oh, Tom—your reputation! And I so wanted my son to be known as a real live wire, the go-getter type!— Not dreamy. I tell you, we could use a wide-awake man in this establishment. Are you wide-awake, Mr. Delaney?

JIM: Me? I’m an old workhorse.

AMANDA: You and I! The workhorses of the world! My children are dreamers. I know you are wide-awake. I’ll tell you a secret. I went down and looked at you.

JIM: Me?— Where?

AMANDA: At the warehouse. [Laura drops her fork.] I’d heard Tom speak of a nice young man at the warehouse, so when I was down to buy some bedroom slippers, I made him point you out! My, how you were working! It did me good to see such—application! For that’s such a valuable thing the way things are! You can’t—underestimate it. And Tom—so slow, so dreamy—not quite seeming to know where anything was! While you were bustling around with such—assurance . . .

JIM: The way I look at it is—

AMANDA: How do you look at it?

JIM: There’s three types in the world.

AMANDA: Oh! Three? What are they?

JIM: One—the workhorses of the world.