[TOM deliberately lays his imaginary fork down and his chair back from the table.]

TOM: I haven’t enjoyed one bite of this dinner because of your constant directions on how to eat it. It’s you that makes me rush through meals with your hawk-like attention to every bite I take. Sickening – spoils my appetite – all this discussion of – animals’ secretion – salivary glands -mastication!

AMANDA [lightly]: Temperament like a Metropolitan star! [He rises and crosses downstage.] You’re not excused from the table.

TOM: I’m getting a cigarette.

AMANDA: You smoke too much.

[LAURA rises.]

LAURA: I’ll bring in the blancmangé.

[He remains standing with his cigarette by the portières during the following.]

AMANDA [rising]: No, sister, no, sister – you be the lady this time and I’ll be the darkey

LAURA: I’m already up.

AMANDA: Resume your seat, little sister, I want you to stay fresh and pretty for gentleman callers!

LAURA: I’m not expecting any gentleman callers.

AMANDA [crossing out to kitchenette. Airily]: Sometimes they come when they are least expected! Why, I remember one Sunday afternoon in Blue Mountain –[Enters kitchenette.]

TOM: I know what’s coming

LAURA: Yes. But let her tell it.

TOM: Again?

LAURA: She loves to tell it.

[AMANDA returns with bowl of dessert.]

AMANDA: One Sunday afternoon in Blue Mountain, your mother received seventeen! gentlemen callers! Why, sometimes there weren’t chairs enough to accommodate them all. We had to send the nigger over to bring in folding chairs from the parish house.