MISS MORGAN: I don’t think you try very hard. Now if you concentrate less on that aimless sweeping back and forth with a broom—if you listen to what I ask you—if you try to give sensible answers—things will get on much better. —How long has your daughter and this German boy been going together?

MRS. POCCIOTTI [violently]: Question, you get me mix up! Question, question! How do I know what’s wrong?

MISS MORGAN: Tina! Max! How long did they go out together?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Since school, since beginning at school!

MISS MORGAN: And after your daughter got sick and shut herself up in the dark, when did the boy start coming in that room with her?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Maybe five or six mon’s.

MISS MORGAN: And you and your husband, Mrs. Pocciotti, neither of you did anything to prevent him from coming?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: My husban’ his head is no good. I got work to do. We get along best as we can. What happens is God’s will, I guess. What is wrong is wrong, I dunno! Is all I can say.

MISS MORGAN [pause]: I see. Mrs. Pocciotti, the girl will have to be taken away.

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Take her away? She won’t like it.

MISS MORGAN: I’m afraid we can’t consult her wishes in the matter. Nor yours, either. You’ve shown yourself completely incompetent to care for this girl. I think I may say that you have even contributed to her delinquency.

MRS. POCCIOTTI: I don’t think she’ll want to be going. You don’t know Tina. She fights, she kicks something awful.

MISS MORGAN: If she won’t go peaceably, she’ll have to be removed by force.

MRS. POCCIOTTI: I hope she will go. It’s bad for the boys, her laying there naked like that.

MISS MORGAN: What? Lying naked?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Yes. She won’t keep the clothes on her. The boys look in through the door and they laugh and they say bad things.

MISS MORGAN [in disgust]: Tch, tch, she’ll have to be taken away and held for a long observation. [She rises.]

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Better you make it be soon. From the way she is looking.

MISS MORGAN: What do you mean? How has your daughter been looking, Mrs. Pocciotti?

MRS. POCCIOTTI: Like—this. [Her curved palm moves slowly before her abdomen in a broadly elliptical gesture.]

MISS MORGAN: Oh! You mean—? [She raises her hand to her lips. Mrs. Pocciotti nods slowly—goes on with her sweeping.]

SLOW CURTAIN

The Pretty Trap

THE PRETTY TRAP

(A COMEDY IN ONE ACT)