AMANDA: I was carrying jonquils the very first afternoon that I met your father. However it wouldn’t be fair to blame that on the flowers. The Cutrere boy had driven me over to Clarksdale to see old Agnes Hoskins who’d just had another stroke and couldn’t talk. It depressed me so to see her in that condition, but on the way back we passed this field of jonquils, literally thousands of them. I made Dave stop the car, and I got out and gathered my two arms full. Dave was annoyed because I wouldn’t put them down in the back seat of the car. I used them for a shield when he tried to kiss me. I didn’t care to be kissed by Dave Cutrere! [She laughs archly.] But when I got home and entered the downstairs hall, still carrying all those jonquils in my arms—Well, there was your father, discovered for the first time, installing a telephone at the foot of the stairs. How much better it would have been if—! [She crosses downstage to Laura.] Still—I wouldn’t have had a daughter as pretty as you! If I hadn’t married that telephone man, who fell in love with long-distance. That hem’s a little uneven—hardly noticeable though, I’ll leave it alone. I’ve got to mix the dressing for the salmon and change myself and it’s already five of six. Laura, you’re almost as pretty as I used to be. It’s early for white, but white’s so lovely on you. You’re so slender, Laura. It’s better to start out slender, for life does put flesh on you. I’m very lucky that I can still wear misses. Turn around. Yes—it dips a little but men don’t notice such things. You’ve never looked so pretty and maybe you’ll never look so pretty again. So be on your best behavior; for once come out of the shell— Vivacity counts for so much!

LAURA: I feel all gone inside.

AMANDA: Laura! Why?

LAURA: You’ve made such a fuss—Mother, you don’t even know him!

AMANDA: He’s Tom’s best friend at the warehouse, and before I suggested Tom’s bringing him home to dinner, I took a trip down there to have a look at him. I had Tom point him out.

LAURA: Oh, Lord.

AMANDA: On the pretext of buying some bedroom slippers. I liked his appearance very, very much, clean-cut type of boy who studies radio engineering at night school. Impresses me as worth investigation!

LAURA: You make it seem like we were setting a trap.

AMANDA: All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be. I was amused when boys came bumbling around, and I had no pangs of conscience when it seemed like one would have the trap sprung on him!