AMANDA: Are you talking about me? Am I the subject of discussion in there? Mr. Delaney, do you think I’m awful? Do you think I’m a—Laura, dear? Everything’s ready!

LAURA [off]: I’m not coming out! [Amanda laughs quickly to cover up.]

AMANDA: My children compare me to—No, I won’t say, I won’t tell you! You’d think they were cruel, and they don’t mean to be cruel. It’s just that I’m of a—different generation, a different background. I still belong to the South, to Mississippi, where there was—gentle—living! Gracious living! Kindness! I ought to learn to be cold in the northern way, but I much prefer to stay the way that I am! My children will have to put up with a silly old mother they say looks like a witch! [Enters portieres.] Mr. Delaney—Jim!— Do I look like a witch?

JIM [abashed]: A—what?

AMANDA: A witch! That’s what they call me! I guess you wonder what I’ve done to deserve such—castigation! Well, I’ll tell you! I’ve pushed, I’ve driven, I’ve given myself no rest! I’ve sold subscriptions over the telephone. I’ve worked as an artist’s model at the Washington Art School, standing in cruel positions for hours of time! I’ve taken in sewing, I’ve cooked at the high school cafeteria down on Newstead. I’ve modeled for matron’s dresses at Famous & Barr. I’ve hired myself out as a practical nurse to horrible invalid women who’ve pinched and scratched me and made me ashamed to be human! I’ve done all those things, which was very bad of me, and so I am now like a witch!—And my children tell me I am and— [She nearly bursts into tears. Turning quickly.] Dinner is—served! [Composing herself, she turns quickly and makes a little cringing courtesy.] Gentlemen—dinner is served!

[Tom closes his eyes for a moment. Jim gets up awkwardly, quite at a loss.]