First performed by the Provincetown Players at the Wharf
Theatre, Provincetown, Mass., August 8, 1916.
GEORGE HENDERSON (County Attorney)
HENRY PETERS (Sheriff)
LEWIS HALE, A neighboring farmer
SCENE: The kitchen is the now abandoned
farmhouse of JOHN WRIGHT, a gloomy kitchen, and left without
having been put in order—unwashed pans under the sink, a loaf
of bread outside the bread-box, a dish-towel on the
table—other signs of incompleted work. At the rear the outer
door opens and the SHERIFF comes in followed by the
COUNTY ATTORNEY and HALE. The SHERIFF and HALE
are men in middle life, the COUNTY ATTORNEY is a young
man; all are much bundled up and go at once to the stove. They are
followed by the two women—the SHERIFF's wife first;
she is a slight wiry woman, a thin nervous face. MRS HALE is
larger and would ordinarily be called more comfortable looking, but
she is disturbed now and looks fearfully about as she enters. The
women have come in slowly, and stand close together near the
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (rubbing his hands) This feels good.
Come up to the fire, ladies.
MRS PETERS: (after taking a step forward) I'm
SHERIFF: (unbuttoning his overcoat and stepping away from the
stove as if to mark the beginning of official business) Now, Mr
Hale, before we move things about, you explain to Mr Henderson just
what you saw when you came here yesterday morning.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: By the way, has anything been moved? Are things
just as you left them yesterday?
SHERIFF: (looking about) It's just the same. When it
dropped below zero last night I thought I'd better send Frank out
this morning to make a fire for us—no use getting pneumonia
with a big case on, but I told him not to touch anything except the
stove—and you know Frank.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Somebody should have been left here
SHERIFF: Oh—yesterday. When I had to send Frank to Morris
Center for that man who went crazy—I want you to know I had
my hands full yesterday. I knew you could get back from Omaha by
today and as long as I went over everything here myself—
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Well, Mr Hale, tell just what happened when you
came here yesterday morning.
HALE: Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes.
We came along the road from my place and as I got here I said, I'm
going to see if I can't get John Wright to go in with me on a party
telephone.' I spoke to Wright about it once before and he put me
off, saying folks talked too much anyway, and all he asked was
peace and quiet—I guess you know about how much he talked
himself; but I thought maybe if I went to the house and talked
about it before his wife, though I said to Harry that I didn't know
as what his wife wanted made much difference to John—
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Let's talk about that later, Mr Hale. I do want
to talk about that, but tell now just what happened when you got to
HALE: I didn't hear or see anything; I knocked at the door, and
still it was all quiet inside. I knew they must be up, it was past
eight o'clock. So I knocked again, and I thought I heard somebody
say, 'Come in.' I wasn't sure, I'm not sure yet, but I opened the
door—this door (indicating the door by which the two women
are still standing) and there in that rocker—(pointing
to it) sat Mrs Wright.
(They all look at the rocker.)
COUNTY ATTORNEY: What—was she doing?
HALE: She was rockin' back and forth. She had her apron in her
hand and was kind of—pleating it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: And how did she—look?
HALE: Well, she looked queer.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: How do you mean—queer?
HALE: Well, as if she didn't know what she was going to do next.
And kind of done up.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: How did she seem to feel about your coming?
HALE: Why, I don't think she minded—one way or other. She
didn't pay much attention. I said, 'How do, Mrs Wright it's cold,
ain't it?' And she said, 'Is it?'—and went on kind of
pleating at her apron. Well, I was surprised; she didn't ask me to
come up to the stove, or to set down, but just sat there, not even
looking at me, so I said, 'I want to see John.' And then
she—laughed. I guess you would call it a laugh. I thought of
Harry and the team outside, so I said a little sharp: 'Can't I see
John?' 'No', she says, kind o' dull like. 'Ain't he home?' says I.
'Yes', says she, 'he's home'. 'Then why can't I see him?' I asked
her, out of patience. ''Cause he's dead', says she. 'Dead?'
says I. She just nodded her head, not getting a bit excited, but
rockin' back and forth. 'Why—where is he?' says I, not
knowing what to say. She just pointed upstairs—like that
(himself pointing to the room above) I got up, with the idea
of going up there. I walked from there to here—then I says,
'Why, what did he die of?' 'He died of a rope round his neck', says
she, and just went on pleatin' at her apron. Well, I went out and
called Harry. I thought I might—need help. We went upstairs
and there he was lyin'—
COUNTY ATTORNEY: I think I'd rather have you go into that
upstairs, where you can point it all out. Just go on now with the
rest of the story.
HALE: Well, my first thought was to get that rope off. It looked
... (stops, his face twitches) ... but Harry, he went up to
him, and he said, 'No, he's dead all right, and we'd better not
touch anything.' So we went back down stairs. She was still sitting
that same way. 'Has anybody been notified?' I asked. 'No', says she
unconcerned. 'Who did this, Mrs Wright?' said Harry. He said it
business-like—and she stopped pleatin' of her apron. 'I don't
know', she says. 'You don't know?' says Harry. 'No', says
she. 'Weren't you sleepin' in the bed with him?' says Harry. 'Yes',
says she, 'but I was on the inside'. 'Somebody slipped a rope round
his neck and strangled him and you didn't wake up?' says Harry. 'I
didn't wake up', she said after him. We must 'a looked as if we
didn't see how that could be, for after a minute she said, 'I sleep
sound'. Harry was going to ask her more questions but I said maybe
we ought to let her tell her story first to the coroner, or the
sheriff, so Harry went fast as he could to Rivers' place, where
there's a telephone.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: And what did Mrs Wright do when she knew that
you had gone for the coroner?
HALE: She moved from that chair to this one over here
(pointing to a small chair in the corner) and just sat there
with her hands held together and looking down. I got a feeling that
I ought to make some conversation, so I said I had come in to see
if John wanted to put in a telephone, and at that she started to
laugh, and then she stopped and looked at me—scared,
(the COUNTY ATTORNEY, who has had his notebook out, makes
a note) I dunno, maybe it wasn't scared. I wouldn't like to say
it was. Soon Harry got back, and then Dr Lloyd came, and you, Mr
Peters, and so I guess that's all I know that you don't.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (looking around) I guess we'll go
upstairs first—and then out to the barn and around there,
(to the SHERIFF) You're convinced that there was nothing
important here—nothing that would point to any motive.
SHERIFF: Nothing here but kitchen things.
(The COUNTY ATTORNEY, after again looking
around the kitchen, opens the door of a cupboard closet. He gets up
on a chair and looks on a shelf. Pulls his hand away,
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Here's a nice mess.
(The women draw nearer.)
MRS PETERS: (to the other woman) Oh, her fruit; it did
freeze, (to the LAWYER) She worried about that when it
turned so cold. She said the fire'd go out and her jars would
SHERIFF: Well, can you beat the women! Held for murder and
worryin' about her preserves.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: I guess before we're through she may have
something more serious than preserves to worry about.
HALE: Well, women are used to worrying over trifles.
(The two women move a little closer
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (with the gallantry of a young
politician) And yet, for all their worries, what would we do
without the ladies? (the women do not unbend. He goes to the
sink, takes a dipperful of water from the pail and pouring it into
a basin, washes his hands. Starts to wipe them on the roller-towel,
turns it for a cleaner place) Dirty towels! (kicks his foot
against the pans under the sink) Not much of a housekeeper,
would you say, ladies?
MRS HALE: (stiffly) There's a great deal of work to be
done on a farm.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: To be sure. And yet (with a little bow to
her) I know there are some Dickson county farmhouses which do
not have such roller towels. (He gives it a pull to expose its
MRS HALE: Those towels get dirty awful quick. Men's hands aren't
always as clean as they might be.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Ah, loyal to your sex, I see. But you and Mrs
Wright were neighbors. I suppose you were friends, too.
MRS HALE: (shaking her head) I've not seen much of her of
late years. I've not been in this house—it's more than a
COUNTY ATTORNEY: And why was that? You didn't like her?
MRS HALE: I liked her all well enough. Farmers' wives have their
hands full, Mr Henderson. And then—
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Yes—?
MRS HALE: (looking about) It never seemed a very cheerful
COUNTY ATTORNEY: No—it's not cheerful. I shouldn't say she
had the homemaking instinct.
MRS HALE: Well, I don't know as Wright had, either.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: You mean that they didn't get on very well?
MRS HALE: No, I don't mean anything. But I don't think a place'd
be any cheerfuller for John Wright's being in it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: I'd like to talk more of that a little later. I
want to get the lay of things upstairs now. (He goes to the
left, where three steps lead to a stair door.)
SHERIFF: I suppose anything Mrs Peters does'll be all right. She
was to take in some clothes for her, you know, and a few little
things. We left in such a hurry yesterday.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Yes, but I would like to see what you take, Mrs
Peters, and keep an eye out for anything that might be of use to
MRS PETERS: Yes, Mr Henderson.
(The women listen to the men's steps on the
stairs, then look about the kitchen.)
MRS HALE: I'd hate to have men coming into my kitchen, snooping
around and criticising.
(She arranges the pans under sink which the
LAWYER had shoved out of place.)
MRS PETERS: Of course it's no more than their duty.
MRS HALE: Duty's all right, but I guess that deputy sheriff that
came out to make the fire might have got a little of this on.
(gives the roller towel a pull) Wish I'd thought of that
sooner. Seems mean to talk about her for not having things slicked
up when she had to come away in such a hurry.
MRS PETERS: (who has gone to a small table in the left rear
corner of the room, and lifted one end of a towel that covers a
pan) She had bread set. (Stands still.)
MRS HALE: (eyes fixed on a loaf of bread beside the
bread-box, which is on a low shelf at the other side of the room.
Moves slowly toward it) She was going to put this in there,
(picks up loaf, then abruptly drops it. In a manner of returning
to familiar things) It's a shame about her fruit. I wonder if
it's all gone. (gets up on the chair and looks) I think
there's some here that's all right, Mrs Peters. Yes—here;
(holding it toward the window) this is cherries, too.
(looking again) I declare I believe that's the only one.
(gets down, bottle in her hand. Goes to the sink and wipes it
off on the outside) She'll feel awful bad after all her hard
work in the hot weather. I remember the afternoon I put up my
cherries last summer.
(She puts the bottle on the big kitchen table,
center of the room. With a sigh, is about to sit down in the
rocking-chair. Before she is seated realizes what chair it is; with
a slow look at it, steps back. The chair which she has touched
rocks back and forth.)
MRS PETERS: Well, I must get those things from the front room
closet, (she goes to the door at the right, but after looking
into the other room, steps back) You coming with me, Mrs Hale?
You could help me carry them.
(They go in the other room; reappear, MRS
PETERS carrying a dress and skirt, MRS HALE following
with a pair of shoes.)
MRS PETERS: My, it's cold in there.
(She puts the clothes on the big table, and
hurries to the stove.)
MRS HALE: (examining the skirt) Wright was close. I think
maybe that's why she kept so much to herself. She didn't even
belong to the Ladies Aid. I suppose she felt she couldn't do her
part, and then you don't enjoy things when you feel shabby. She
used to wear pretty clothes and be lively, when she was Minnie
Foster, one of the town girls singing in the choir. But
that—oh, that was thirty years ago. This all you was to take
MRS PETERS: She said she wanted an apron. Funny thing to want,
for there isn't much to get you dirty in jail, goodness knows. But
I suppose just to make her feel more natural. She said they was in
the top drawer in this cupboard. Yes, here. And then her little
shawl that always hung behind the door. (opens stair door and
looks) Yes, here it is.
MRS PETERS: (in a frightened voice) Oh, I don't know.
MRS HALE: Well, I don't think she did. Asking for an apron and
her little shawl. Worrying about her fruit.
MRS PETERS: (starts to speak, glances up, where footsteps are
heard in the room above. In a low voice) Mr Peters says it
looks bad for her. Mr Henderson is awful sarcastic in a speech and
he'll make fun of her sayin' she didn't wake up.
MRS HALE: Well, I guess John Wright didn't wake when they was
slipping that rope under his neck.
MRS PETERS: No, it's strange. It must have been done awful
crafty and still. They say it was such a—funny way to kill a
man, rigging it all up like that.
MRS HALE: That's just what Mr Hale said. There was a gun in the
house. He says that's what he can't understand.
MRS PETERS: Mr Henderson said coming out that what was needed
for the case was a motive; something to show anger, or—sudden
MRS HALE: (who is standing by the table) Well, I don't
see any signs of anger around here, (she puts her hand on the
dish towel which lies on the table, stands looking down at table,
one half of which is clean, the other half messy) It's wiped to
here, (makes a move as if to finish work, then turns and looks
at loaf of bread outside the breadbox. Drops towel. In that voice
of coming back to familiar things.) Wonder how they are finding
things upstairs. I hope she had it a little more red-up up there.
You know, it seems kind of sneaking. Locking her up in town and
then coming out here and trying to get her own house to turn
MRS PETERS: But Mrs Hale, the law is the law.
MRS HALE: I s'pose 'tis, (unbuttoning her coat) Better
loosen up your things, Mrs Peters. You won't feel them when you go
(MRS PETERS takes off her fur tippet, goes to hang it on hook
at back of room, stands looking at the under part of the small
MRS PETERS: She was piecing a quilt. (She brings the large
sewing basket and they look at the bright pieces.)
MRS HALE: It's log cabin pattern. Pretty, isn't it? I wonder if
she was goin' to quilt it or just knot it?
(Footsteps have been heard coming down the
stairs. The SHERIFF enters followed by HALE and the COUNTY
SHERIFF: They wonder if she was going to quilt it or just knot
it! (The men laugh, the women look abashed.)
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (rubbing his hands over the stove)
Frank's fire didn't do much up there, did it? Well, let's go out to
the barn and get that cleared up. (The men go outside.)
MRS HALE: (resentfully) I don't know as there's anything
so strange, our takin' up our time with little things while we're
waiting for them to get the evidence. (she sits down at the big
table smoothing out a block with decision) I don't see as it's
anything to laugh about.
MRS PETERS: (apologetically) Of course they've got awful
important things on their minds.
(Pulls up a chair and joins MRS HALE at the
MRS HALE: (examining another block) Mrs Peters, look at
this one. Here, this is the one she was working on, and look at the
sewing! All the rest of it has been so nice and even. And look at
this! It's all over the place! Why, it looks as if she didn't know
what she was about!
(After she has said this they look at each other,
then start to glance back at the door. After an instant MRS
HALE has pulled at a knot and ripped the sewing.)
MRS PETERS: Oh, what are you doing, Mrs Hale?
MRS HALE: (mildly) Just pulling out a stitch or two
that's not sewed very good. (threading a needle) Bad sewing
always made me fidgety.
MRS PETERS: (nervously) I don't think we ought to touch
MRS HALE: I'll just finish up this end. (suddenly stopping
and leaning forward) Mrs Peters?
MRS PETERS: Yes, Mrs Hale?
MRS HALE: What do you suppose she was so nervous about?
MRS PETERS: Oh—I don't know. I don't know as she was
nervous. I sometimes sew awful queer when I'm just tired. (MRS HALE
starts to say something, looks at MRS PETERS, then goes
on sewing) Well I must get these things wrapped up. They may be
through sooner than we think, (putting apron and other things
together) I wonder where I can find a piece of paper, and
MRS HALE: In that cupboard, maybe.
MRS PETERS: (looking in cupboard) Why, here's a
bird-cage, (holds it up) Did she have a bird, Mrs Hale?
MRS HALE: Why, I don't know whether she did or not—I've
not been here for so long. There was a man around last year selling
canaries cheap, but I don't know as she took one; maybe she did.
She used to sing real pretty herself.
MRS PETERS: (glancing around) Seems funny to think of a
bird here. But she must have had one, or why would she have a cage?
I wonder what happened to it.
MRS HALE: I s'pose maybe the cat got it.
MRS PETERS: No, she didn't have a cat. She's got that feeling
some people have about cats—being afraid of them. My cat got
in her room and she was real upset and asked me to take it out.
MRS HALE: My sister Bessie was like that. Queer, ain't it?
MRS PETERS: (examining the cage) Why, look at this door.
It's broke. One hinge is pulled apart.
MRS HALE: (looking too) Looks as if someone must have
been rough with it.
MRS PETERS: Why, yes.
(She brings the cage forward and puts it on the
MRS HALE: I wish if they're going to find any evidence they'd be
about it. I don't like this place.
MRS PETERS: But I'm awful glad you came with me, Mrs Hale. It
would be lonesome for me sitting here alone.
MRS HALE: It would, wouldn't it? (dropping her sewing)
But I tell you what I do wish, Mrs Peters. I wish I had come over
sometimes when she was here. I—(looking around the
room)—wish I had.
MRS PETERS: But of course you were awful busy, Mrs
Hale—your house and your children.
MRS HALE: I could've come. I stayed away because it weren't
cheerful—and that's why I ought to have come. I—I've
never liked this place. Maybe because it's down in a hollow and you
don't see the road. I dunno what it is, but it's a lonesome place
and always was. I wish I had come over to see Minnie Foster
sometimes. I can see now—(shakes her head)
MRS PETERS: Well, you mustn't reproach yourself, Mrs Hale.
Somehow we just don't see how it is with other folks
until—something comes up.
MRS HALE: Not having children makes less work—but it makes
a quiet house, and Wright out to work all day, and no company when
he did come in. Did you know John Wright, Mrs Peters?
MRS PETERS: Not to know him; I've seen him in town. They say he
was a good man.
MRS HALE: Yes—good; he didn't drink, and kept his word as
well as most, I guess, and paid his debts. But he was a hard man,
Mrs Peters. Just to pass the time of day with
him—(shivers) Like a raw wind that gets to the bone,
(pauses, her eye falling on the cage) I should think she
would 'a wanted a bird. But what do you suppose went with it?
MRS PETERS: I don't know, unless it got sick and died.
(She reaches over and swings the broken door,
swings it again, both women watch it.)
MRS HALE: You weren't raised round here, were you? (MRS
PETERS shakes her head) You didn't know—her?
MRS PETERS: Not till they brought her yesterday.
MRS HALE: She—come to think of it, she was kind of like a
bird herself—real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid
(silence; then as if struck by a happy thought and relieved to
get back to everyday things) Tell you what, Mrs Peters, why
don't you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her
MRS PETERS: Why, I think that's a real nice idea, Mrs Hale.
There couldn't possibly be any objection to it, could there? Now,
just what would I take? I wonder if her patches are in
here—and her things.
(They look in the sewing basket.)
MRS HALE: Here's some red. I expect this has got sewing things
in it. (brings out a fancy box) What a pretty box. Looks
like something somebody would give you. Maybe her scissors are in
here. (Opens box. Suddenly puts her hand to her nose)
Why—(MRS PETERS bends nearer, then turns her face
away) There's something wrapped up in this piece of silk.
MRS PETERS: Why, this isn't her scissors.
MRS HALE: (lifting the silk) Oh, Mrs
(MRS PETERS bends closer.)
MRS PETERS: It's the bird.
MRS HALE: (jumping up) But, Mrs Peters—look at it!
It's neck! Look at its neck!
It's all—other side to.
MRS PETERS: Somebody—wrung—its—neck.
(Their eyes meet. A look of growing
comprehension, of horror. Steps are heard outside. MRS HALE
slips box under quilt pieces, and sinks into her chair.
Enter SHERIFF and COUNTY ATTORNEY. MRS PETERS
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (as one turning from serious things to
little pleasantries) Well ladies, have you decided whether she
was going to quilt it or knot it?
MRS PETERS: We think she was going to—knot it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Well, that's interesting, I'm sure. (seeing
the birdcage) Has the bird flown?
MRS HALE: (putting more quilt pieces over the box) We
think the—cat got it.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (preoccupied) Is there a cat?
(MRS HALE glances in a quick covert way at
MRS PETERS: Well, not now. They're superstitious, you know. They
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (to SHERIFF PETERS, continuing an
interrupted conversation) No sign at all of anyone having come
from the outside. Their own rope. Now let's go up again and go over
it piece by piece. (they start upstairs) It would have to
have been someone who knew just the—
(MRS PETERS sits down. The two women sit there
not looking at one another, but as if peering into something and at
the same time holding back. When they talk now it is in the manner
of feeling their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they
are saying, but as if they can not help saying it.)
MRS HALE: She liked the bird. She was going to bury it in that
MRS PETERS: (in a whisper) When I was a girl—my
kitten—there was a boy took a hatchet, and before my
eyes—and before I could get there—(covers her face
an instant) If they hadn't held me back I would
have—(catches herself, looks upstairs where steps are
heard, falters weakly)—hurt him.
MRS HALE: (with a slow look around her) I wonder how it
would seem never to have had any children around, (pause)
No, Wright wouldn't like the bird—a thing that sang. She used
to sing. He killed that, too.
MRS PETERS: (moving uneasily) We don't know who killed
MRS HALE: I knew John Wright.
MRS PETERS: It was an awful thing was done in this house that
night, Mrs Hale. Killing a man while he slept, slipping a rope
around his neck that choked the life out of him.
MRS HALE: His neck. Choked the life out of him.
(Her hand goes out and rests on the
MRS PETERS: (with rising voice) We don't know who killed
him. We don't know.
MRS HALE: (her own feeling not interrupted) If there'd
been years and years of nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it
would be awful—still, after the bird was still.
MRS PETERS: (something within her speaking) I know what
stillness is. When we homesteaded in Dakota, and my first baby
died—after he was two years old, and me with no other
MRS HALE: (moving) How soon do you suppose they'll be
through, looking for the evidence?
MRS PETERS: I know what stillness is. (pulling herself
back) The law has got to punish crime, Mrs Hale.
MRS HALE: (not as if answering that) I wish you'd seen
Minnie Foster when she wore a white dress with blue ribbons and
stood up there in the choir and sang. (a look around the
room) Oh, I wish I'd come over here once in a while!
That was a crime! That was a crime! Who's going to punish that?
MRS PETERS: (looking upstairs) We mustn't—take
MRS HALE: I might have known she needed help! I know how things
can be—for women. I tell you, it's queer, Mrs Peters. We live
close together and we live far apart. We all go through the same
things—it's all just a different kind of the same thing,
(brushes her eyes, noticing the bottle of fruit, reaches out for
it) If I was you, I wouldn't tell her her fruit was gone. Tell
her it ain't. Tell her it's all right. Take this in to prove
it to her. She—she may never know whether it was broke or
MRS PETERS: (takes the bottle, looks about for something to
wrap it in; takes petticoat from the clothes brought from the other
room, very nervously begins winding this around the bottle. In a
false voice) My, it's a good thing the men couldn't hear us.
Wouldn't they just laugh! Getting all stirred up over a little
thing like a—dead canary. As if that could have anything to
do with—with—wouldn't they laugh!
(The men are heard coming down stairs.)
MRS HALE: (under her breath) Maybe they would—maybe
COUNTY ATTORNEY: No, Peters, it's all perfectly clear except a
reason for doing it. But you know juries when it comes to women. If
there was some definite thing. Something to show—something to
make a story about—a thing that would connect up with this
strange way of doing it—
(The women's eyes meet for an instant. Enter HALE
from outer door.)
HALE: Well, I've got the team around. Pretty cold out there.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: I'm going to stay here a while by myself,
(to the SHERIFF) You can send Frank out for me, can't you? I
want to go over everything. I'm not satisfied that we can't do
SHERIFF: Do you want to see what Mrs Peters is going to take
(The LAWYER goes to the table, picks up
the apron, laughs.)
COUNTY ATTORNEY: Oh, I guess they're not very dangerous things
the ladies have picked out. (Moves a few things about,
disturbing the quilt pieces which cover the box. Steps back)
No, Mrs Peters doesn't need supervising. For that matter, a
sheriff's wife is married to the law. Ever think of it that way,
MRS PETERS: Not—just that way.
SHERIFF: (chuckling) Married to the law. (moves toward
the other room) I just want you to come in here a minute,
George. We ought to take a look at these windows.
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (scoffingly) Oh, windows!
SHERIFF: We'll be right out, Mr Hale.
(HALE goes outside. The SHERIFF follows
the COUNTY ATTORNEY into the other room. Then MRS HALE
rises, hands tight together, looking intensely at MRS
PETERS, whose eyes make a slow turn, finally meeting MRS
HALE's. A moment MRS HALE holds her, then her own eyes
point the way to where the box is concealed. Suddenly MRS
PETERS throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box in the
bag she is wearing. It is too big. She opens box, starts to take
bird out, cannot touch it, goes to pieces, stands there helpless.
Sound of a knob turning in the other room. MRS HALE snatches
the box and puts it in the pocket of her big coat. Enter COUNTY
ATTORNEY and SHERIFF.)
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (facetiously) Well, Henry, at least we
found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going
to—what is it you call it, ladies?
MRS HALE: (her hand against her pocket) We call
it—knot it, Mr Henderson.