AMANDA: According to what you say, you’re not the dreamy type nor exactly the ordinary workhorse either.

JIM: That’s right, Mrs. Wingfield.

AMANDA: Just what are you then?

JIM [grinning]: A combination, the beginning of an experiment— dreams plus action, which is the next generation!

AMANDA: —Oh! [She smiles uncertainly.] That sounds very exciting.

JIM: It is, I think. “All the world is waiting for the sunrise!”

[The chandelier flickers and dims out.]

AMANDA: Where was Moses when the lights went out! Do you know the answer to that one, Mr. Delaney?

JIM: No. What is the answer?

AMANDA: In the dark! [Jim laughs appreciatively.] [Amanda gets up.] How lucky we have these candles on the table.

JIM: Here’s a match. [Lights one of the candelabras.]

AMANDA: Everybody just sit still, I’ll take a look at the fuse-box. Can you tell a burnt-out fuse when you see one, Mr. Delaney?

JIM [following her]: Uh-huh.

AMANDA: Tom! Did you pay that light-bill?

TOM: Why, I—think so—I’m not sure.

AMANDA: Oh, there we have it! It’s no use even looking at the fusebox! The dreamy type neglected to pay the light-bill!

JIM [laughing]: Shakespeare probably wrote a poem on it.

AMANDA: Mr. Delaney, it isn’t a joking matter. There’s such a high price for negligence in this world!

JIM: Maybe the poem will win a ten-dollar prize!

AMANDA: We’ll just have candlelight for the rest of the evening.

JIM: Well, what’s wrong about that?

AMANDA: Nothing except I’m a little out of patience with type number three! Come on, Dreamy Type, you and I’ll clear the dishes. Laura, you take Mr. Delaney into the living room. [She thrusts the candelabra into Laura’s hand. Laura looks helplessly at Jim. He grins.]

JIM: Come on, Laura. Let’s have a look at those records. I don’t suppose you got any Benny Goodman, or boogie-woogie numbers?

LAURA: I—I’m afraid not. They’re all old records that came with the Victrola.

[They pass into living room. Amanda draws the portieres behind them. She can be heard indistinctly upbraiding Tom in the kitchen.]

JIM: The machine’s a pretty old-timer.

LAURA: —Yes. [Still holding the candelabra.] Father bought it the day before he left. With all these records.

JIM [sorting through them]: “Whispering.” “Dardanella.” Where did he go?

LAURA: He was type number three. —Nobody knows.

JIM: Oh. Just disappeared?

LAURA: —Yes. He left the music—by way of apology for him. When he—fell in love with long distance! [She smiles slightly.] And so we—haven’t bought any new ones.

JIM: Don’t you like swing-music?

LAURA: It makes me think of the speed-drills we used to have at Rubicam’s Business College, we typed to—very fast music, which made me nervous . . . I had to quit after a while, it made me so— Where shall I put the candles?