MRS. LANE: I’ve got to move--it’s _Ethel_.
RACHEL: What is the matter with that child? It’s--it’s heartbreaking to see her.
MRS. LANE: I understand how you feel,--I don’t feel anything, myself, any more. (_A pause_). My husband and I are poor, and we’re ugly and we’re black. Ethel looks like her father more than she does like me. We live in 55th Street--near the railroad. It’s a poor neighborhood, but the rent’s cheap. My husband is a porter in a store; and, to help out, I’m a caretaker. (_Pauses_). I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. We had a nice little home--and the three of us were happy. Now we’ve got to move.
MRS. LANE: It’s Ethel. I put her in school this September. She stayed two weeks. (_Pointing to Ethel_) That’s the result.
RACHEL (_In horror_): You mean--that just two weeks--in school--did that?
MRS. LANE: Yes. Ethel never had a sick day in her life--before. (_A brief pause_). I took her to the doctor at the end of the two weeks. He says she’s a nervous wreck.
RACHEL: But what could they have done to her?
MRS. LANE (_Laughs grimly and mirthlessly_): I’ll tell you what they did the first day. Ethel is naturally sensitive and backward. She’s not assertive. The teacher saw that, and, after I had left, told her to sit in a seat in the rear of the class. She was alone there--in a corner. The children, immediately feeling there was something wrong with Ethel because of the teacher’s attitude, turned and stared at her. When the teacher’s back was turned they whispered about her, pointed their fingers at her and tittered. The teacher divided the class into two parts, divisions, I believe, they are called. She forgot all about Ethel, of course, until the last minute, and then, looking back, said sharply: “That little girl there may join this division,” meaning the group of pupils standing around her. Ethel naturally moved slowly. The teacher called her sulky and told her to lose a part of her recess. When Ethel came up--the children drew away from her in every direction. She was left standing alone. The teacher then proceeded to give a lesson about kindness to animals. Funny, isn’t it, _kindness_ to _animals_? The children forgot Ethel in the excitement of talking about their pets. Presently, the teacher turned to Ethel and said disagreeably: “Have you a pet?” Ethel said, “Yes,” very low. “Come, speak up, you sulky child, what is it?” Ethel said: “A blind puppy.” They all laughed, the teacher and all. Strange, isn’t it, but Ethel loves that puppy. She spoke up: “It’s mean to laugh at a little blind puppy. I’m glad he’s blind.” This remark brought forth more laughter. “Why are you glad,” the teacher asked curiously. Ethel refused to say. (_Pauses_). When I asked her why, do you know what she told me? “If he saw me, he might not love me any more.” (_A pause_). Did I tell you that Ethel is only seven years old?