Chapter XX: Part 20

LYDIA. Yes. The portulaca blooms so brightly on his grave. It's really not bad, having your family buried in the front yard, if its dust inspires a flower like this.

HARRIET. I don't see why you insist upon picking those. They wilt immediately.

LYDIA [_looking appealingly at her aunt_]. Oh, but they're so bright and gay! I can't keep my hands from them.

HARRIET [_scornfully smoothing her lace cuff_]. Really?

LYDIA [_for the moment a trifle lonely_]. Aunt Harriet, tell me why these dead old men mean so much to you?

HARRIET [_breathlessly_]. Dead--old--men--? Why, Lydia? The Wildes came up from Virginia and were among the very first pioneers, in this section. They practically made this town and there is no better known name here in the southern part of the state than ours. We--

LYDIA. Oh, yes. Of course, I've heard all that ever since I can remember. [_Assuming an attitude of pride._] We have the oldest and most aristocratic-looking house for miles around; the rose-hedge has bloomed for fifty years--it's very nearly dead, too; General Someone drank out of our well, or General Some-One-Else drowned in it, I always forget which.

HARRIET. Lydia!

LYDIA [_soothingly_]. Oh, it doesn't make much difference which. That doesn't worry me. But what does, is how you manage to put a halo around all your fathers and grandfathers and--

HARRIET [_piously_]. Because they represent the noble traditions of a noble past.

LYDIA. What about the noble present?

HARRIET [_looking vaguely about the room_]. I have not seen it.

LYDIA [_bitterly_]. No, you have not seen it. [_Turning to go._]

HARRIET. Just one moment, Lydia. I want to speak to you about your brother.

LYDIA [_quickly_]. Did the doctor say that Joe is worse?

HARRIET. No. In fact, the doctor won't tell me anything. He and Joe seem to have a secret. I can get nothing definite from the doctor at all. But what I feel it my duty to ask you, Lydia, is this: Tell me truthfully. Have you been speaking to Joe about--Heaven?

LYDIA. No. What a dreadful thing to even mention to a sick boy.

HARRIET. My dear, you are quite wrong. But some one has been misinforming him.

LYDIA. Really?

HARRIET. Lydia, I am very distressed. [_Slowly._] Your young brother holds the most unusual and sacrilegious ideas of immortality.

LYDIA [_indifferently_]. So?

HARRIET. No member of the Wilde family has ever held such ideas. It is quite irregular.

LYDIA. What does he think?

HARRIET. I don't know that I can tell you clearly. It is all so distasteful to me. But he declares--even in contradiction to my explanation--that after death we continue our earthly occupations,--that is, our studies, our ambitions--

LYDIA. That is a wonderful idea.

HARRIET [_not noticing_]. That if we die before accomplishing anything on earth, we have a chance in the after-life to work. Work! Imagine! In fact he pictures Heaven as a place where people are--doing things.

LYDIA [_lifting her head and smiling_]. Oh, that is beautiful--I mean, what did you tell him?

HARRIET [_reverently_]. I explained very carefully that Heaven is peace, peace. That the first thing we do when a dear one dies, is to pray for the eternal rest of his soul.

LYDIA [_dully_]. Oh.

HARRIET. Yes, Lydia, I am glad to see that you share my distress. Why--he desecrates the conception of Heaven with workmen, artists, inventors, musicians--anything but angels.

LYDIA. Anything but angels. [_Smiles._] That is quite new, is it not? At least in this little town. Does Joe see himself building houses in Heaven?

HARRIET. That is the worst of it. Why, Lydia, even after I told him patiently that there were no such things as architects in Heaven, he still insists that if he dies, he is going to be one.

LYDIA [_startled_]. If he should die?

HARRIET [_decidedly_]. That is simply another foolish fancy. He has been confined so long, that he gets restless and imagines these strange things.

LYDIA. Poor Joe.

HARRIET. Don't sympathize with him, please. I can't possibly allow him to become an architect.

LYDIA. Why not?

HARRIET. When the men in our family have been clergymen for four generations?

LYDIA. Yes, but they're dead now.

HARRIET. All the more reason for continuing the tradition.

LYDIA. There isn't one bit of money in it.

HARRIET [_proudly_]. When was a Wilde ever slave to money?

LYDIA [_sulkily_]. Certainly not since my day, and for a very, very good reason.

HARRIET. Well, at least we have sufficient to send Joe to college--and as a divinity student. And some day we will hear him preach in the house of the Lord.

LYDIA. He would rather build houses himself.

HARRIET. Simply a boyish whim. He's too young to really have a mind of his own. [_Confidently._] He will do what I tell him to.

LYDIA. He is very nearly nineteen, Aunt Harriet. Didn't you have a mind of your own when you were nineteen?

HARRIET. Certainly not. Yes, of course.

[_Lydia laughs._]

HARRIET [_the hem of her skirt bellowing with dignity._] This is entirely different. If you can't be polite, Lydia, you might at least stop laughing.

LYDIA [_still laughing_]. Oh, no--oh, no--I take after my great-great-grandfather. I've just discovered it. At last I'm interested in the noble men of the Wilde family. I know he liked to laugh. Look at the pertness of that! [_Holding up the portulaca._]

HARRIET [_ignoring the flower_]. Please give me your sun-hat, Lydia.

LYDIA [_demurely_]. Oh, are you going to look at the portulaca?

HARRIET. No. I am going to see what you have done to the rose-hedge. [_Going out through the French door._]

LYDIA [_suddenly furious_]. Go look at your decrepit old rose-hedge! Go look at it! And I hope you get hurt on a thorn and bleed, yes, bleed--the way you make me bleed. I did cut a hole in it. I don't care who sees in--I want to see out! [_Looking toward the portrait and throwing the flowers on the floor._] Take your stupid flowers--take them. They don't do me any good. They're withering, they're withering!

[_She goes to lean against the window and look toward the court
house. As she stands there, the door opens slowly and Joe, with
blankets wrapped about him and trailing from his shoulders, comes
unsteadily into the room. He carries paper and drawing materials.
He is an eager boy, who seems always afraid of being overtaken.
Lydia turns suddenly and starts toward the door. She stops in
surprise as she sees her brother._]

LYDIA. Joe! My goodness! Whatever made you come downstairs? Aunt Harriet will be angry. Why this might be awfully dangerous for you, Joe. How did you come to do such a thing?

[_She helps him toward the lounge and arranges a cushion for him._]

JOE [_sinking back, but facing the window_]. I wanted to see how the court house was getting on. I can't see out of my window, you know.

LYDIA. Well, you see [_Raising the blind._] they will soon have it done.

JOE [_delightedly_]. Yes, won't they, though. Look at those white pillars! That's worth something, I tell you. I'm glad I saw it.

LYDIA. What do you mean?

JOE. Just what I said.

LYDIA. Yes, but, Joe--coming down stairs this way, when you have been really ill--

JOE. Oh, don't argue, Lydia. I have just been arguing with Aunt Harriet.

LYDIA. You'd better rest then. You will have to, anyway, before you go back to your room. I see you plan to draw.

JOE. Yes, I've been lazy for so long. It's driving me crazy, never doing anything. I thought I'd copy some Greek columns this morning. Could you give me a large book to work on?

LYDIA. I'll look for one. [_Hunting._] Joe, what were you and Aunt Harriet arguing about?

JOE. Oh, nothing.

LYDIA. Yes, I've heard her do that before. But won't you tell me?

JOE. It wasn't anything, Lydia.

LYDIA. Here is what you want.

[_She brings a large bound volume from the piano and places it
upon his knees._]

JOE. Thank you. [_Settling himself to draw._] Where is she, by the way?

LYDIA. Out looking at the rose-hedge, where I cut a hole in it.

JOE. A hole in the sacred rose-hedge! Where did you suddenly get the courage? I've heard you talk about doing such things before, but you never really did them.

LYDIA [_timidly_]. I don't know, Joe, where I got my courage. I think it's leaving me, too.

[_She puts out her hand as if trying to detain some one._]

JOE [_cheerfully_]. Come stand by me. I have--I have a great deal of courage this morning.

[_Lydia stands behind Joe and looks over his shoulder._]

JOE [_turning to her affectionately_]. It's good I have you, Lydia. Aunt Harriet has a fit every time she sees me doing this.

LYDIA. Having them is part of her religion.

JOE. Well, this is mine. What is yours, Lydia? I don't believe I ever heard you say.

LYDIA [_shortly_]. I haven't any.

JOE. Sure enough?

LYDIA [_nodding, then speaking quite slowly_]. I never did anything for any one out of love, and I was never allowed to do anything I wanted to for joy. So I know that I have no religion.

JOE [_embarrassed_]. Never mind. Perhaps that will all come to you some day. [_Joe suddenly sits erect and looks first toward the French door and then toward the window._] I wonder what you will do when I go?

LYDIA [_following the direction of his gaze_]. Where?

JOE. Oh--to college.

LYDIA. Perhaps when you go to college I'll do something Aunt Harriet doesn't think is regular.

JOE. What will it be?

LYDIA. How can I know now? How should I want to know?

[_Joe looks over his shoulder toward the rear door of the room._]

LYDIA [_nervously_]. What do you see?

JOE. Nothing--nothing.

LYDIA. Then please stop looking at it.

JOE [_meeting her eyes for the fraction of a moment and then holding up the sheet of paper._] I am actually getting some form into this column. If I could only learn to design beautiful buildings--

[_He puts his hand to his side in sudden pain._]

LYDIA [_not noting his action_]. Why, of course you will some day.

JOE. I don't know. Sometimes I'm afraid I won't get the chance.

LYDIA. Oh, you'll be a man. You can ride over Aunt Harriet.

[_Joe looks at his copy and crumples it savagely. Suddenly he
holds up his hand and listens._]

JOE. What was that bell?

LYDIA. I did not hear any.

JOE. I did.

LYDIA. It must have been the side door. Some one will answer it.

JOE. Do people often come by the side door?

LYDIA. Why, Joe, you know very well that the delivery boy always comes there.

JOE. Delivery?--I wonder--will it be delivery?

LYDIA. Joe, you're even odder than I am. Stop it. It doesn't do to have two in the family.

JOE [_laughing_]. Oh, just as you say. [_Looking at the book on his knee_.] What is this big book?

LYDIA. Music.

JOE [_opening the book_]. Why, it has your name in it.

LYDIA. It is my book.

JOE [_in surprise_]. Did you ever play the piano?

LYDIA [_turning aside_]. Yes.

JOE [_his face lighting up_]. Play something now, please.

LYDIA. That piano has been locked for fifteen years.

JOE. Ever since mother died and you and I came here to live?

LYDIA. Yes. Haven't you ever wondered why it was never open?

JOE. I certainly have. But Aunt Harriet always avoided the subject and I could never get you to say anything about it.

LYDIA. By the time I had tried it for two years, I knew better.

JOE. But why is it locked?

LYDIA. Because I neglected my duties. I played the piano when I should have been studying, and I played when I should have been hemming linen, and I played when I should have been learning psalms.

JOE. But surely when you grew older--when you were through school--

LYDIA. No. I lied to her once about it. She made me promise not to touch the piano, and left it open on purpose to see what I would do. And I played and she heard me. So when I denied it--[_Shrugging her shoulders._] You see, after that, to have let me go on, playing and undisciplined--why, it would have meant the loss of my soul. [_Very pleasantly._] It would have meant hell, at least, Joe dear, and I don't know what else. Aunt Harriet has always been so careful about what I learned.

JOE [_angrily_]. But surely you are old enough now to do what you want to! I'll ask her myself if--

LYDIA [_alarmed_]. Oh, no, Joe! Please, please don't do that. I should be frightened, really. It is a matter of religion with her.

JOE. And don't you know how to play any longer?

LYDIA. Yes, some. I sneak into the church when no one is there and play on that piano. [_She walks to the instrument, and sitting down before it, rubs her palms lovingly across the closed lid._] When you were away six months ago, this was opened to be tuned for those young cousins of hers who visited. They were lively young girls, and the first thing they did every morning was to go to the piano. They would have asked questions if it had been locked, and Aunt Harriet hates inquisitiveness like poison.

JOE. Where is the key?

LYDIA. I don't know where it is now. She has probably thrown it away. It would be just like her to do it. [_Changing her manner suddenly and rising._] Joe, wouldn't you like a cup of tea?

JOE [_earnestly_]. No, I wouldn't. Sit down, Lydia.

[_Lydia sits down again. Joe starts to speak, but stops to look
about the room._]

LYDIA. Joe, what are you looking for?

JOE [_slowly and reluctantly_]. I can't get over the feeling that I am expecting some one.

LYDIA. Who is it?

JOE [_evasively_]. I don't know. Some one I never saw before.

LYDIA [_laughing_]. An unknown visitor knocks before he comes in the door.

JOE. I'm not sure that this one will.

[_He closes his eyes wearily and puts his palms before them._]

LYDIA [_gently_]. Joe, you're tired. Please go upstairs.

JOE. Not quite yet. [_Eagerly._] Lydia, you know what Aunt Harriet and I were arguing about. I saw it in your eyes.

LYDIA. Of course. It's a beautiful idea.

JOE [_excitedly_]. Then you think I'm right.

LYDIA [_looking at the piano_]. I hope to Heaven you are.

JOE [_pleading_]. Then do something for me, Lydia, please.

LYDIA. What?

JOE. I've been so worried lately to think--how awful it is if a person dies without accomplishing anything.

LYDIA. I wish you wouldn't talk like that.

JOE [_hastily_]. I wasn't speaking for myself. I meant, just generally, you know. But what I have been figuring out, is this--so long as you believe that you can go on working after you leave here, it's all right, isn't it?

LYDIA [_hesitant_]. Yes.

JOE [_thoughtfully and as though on unaccustomed ground_]. But when you first go over, you are rather weak--

LYDIA. You mean your soul?

JOE [_speaking hurriedly_]. Yes, that's it. And you mustn't be worried by grief or any force working against you from the people you've left behind.

LYDIA. Yes, I follow you. Where did you learn all this?

JOE. In a book at the library.

LYDIA [_uncertainly_]. I think I have heard of some theory--

JOE [_impatiently_]. I'm not bothering about theories. I haven't got time for them. In fact, I'd almost forgotten about the whole idea until the other day. Something the doctor told me set me thinking. He is really a splendid man, Lydia.

LYDIA [_indifferently_]. Yes, I've always thought so. But what is it you want me to do for you, Joe? Aunt Harriet may come in any moment.

JOE [_looking at Lydia very fixedly and speaking slowly_]. Just this. When I die, don't let Aunt Harriet pray for my soul.

LYDIA. Joe!

JOE. Yes, I mean it. She has a powerful mind. And she would pray for my eternal rest and I might not be strong enough to stand against her.

LYDIA [_starting toward the rear door_]. I won't listen to you any longer. It is wrong to talk and think about death.

JOE. Lydia, please! It means so much to me. Listen just one second. I know I'm not very good, but Aunt Harriet would be sure to try to make an angel out of me. And if I thought I had to sit on those everlasting gold steps and twang an everlasting gold harp forever and forever--Lydia, I'd go crazy, I'd go crazy!

[_His voice rises to a scream and he sinks back gasping._]

LYDIA [_rushing to his side_]. I promise anything. Only don't excite yourself this way. For Heaven's sake, Joe, be quiet.

JOE [_insisting_]. But don't let her pray. And make her give you the key to the piano, and you play something so I can go out in harmony.--Harmony--do you understand that, Lydia? Harmony. That's the word they used so often in the book. Do you promise surely?

LYDIA [_tearfully_]. Yes, but, Joe, you're not going to die. You're not! The doctor would have told us something about it.

JOE. Of course, I'm not going to. Not until I get good and ready. Don't be silly. But remember, when it does happen, you must not cry. That is very hard on souls that are just starting out.

LYDIA. I--I can see how it might be.

JOE. You won't forget to smile?

LYDIA. No.

JOE. But smile now, for practice.

LYDIA [_trying to smile, but failing_]. Oh, I can smile for you easily enough; but don't frighten me like that again.

JOE. I'll try not to.

LYDIA [_suddenly facing him_]. Do you expect Aunt Harriet to live as long as you do?

JOE [_with a second's hesitation_]. Yes, I'm quite sure she will. The Wildes have the habit of living long, you know.

LYDIA. But why shouldn't you live longer than she, since you are younger?

JOE. Oh, I don't know. I'd rather like to get ahead of her in something, though.

LYDIA. Well, you do believe in preparation. I can't see why you are being so beforehanded, but if it gives you any pleasure to scare me to death----

JOE. It certainly does, Lydia. And just one thing more, I want of you.

LYDIA. What?

JOE [_rather shyly_]. Take the Bible and read something to bind the promise. Just any verse.

LYDIA. This is becoming too solemn. I don't care for it.

[_She approaches the lyre table, upon which, of course, is a Bible,
and opens the book._]

JOE. Then I'll be ready to go.

LYDIA [_looking at him sharply_]. Go?

JOE. Upstairs.

[_Lydia turns the leaves of the Bible._]

JOE. This will be our secret, Lydia. [_He leans forward and looks out the French door, then turns to her impatiently._] What are you waiting for?

LYDIA. Yes, Joe, our secret. Let me see. Mother was always very fond of John. [_Joe makes a movement of pain, which Lydia does not see._] Oh, I have the very thing to read you. How strange! It sounds like a prophecy for you.

JOE. Read it. [_Steps are heard in the garden. Joe looks up in alarm._] Who is that coming?

LYDIA. Only Aunt Harriet.

[_Harriet Wilde comes in through the French door._]

HARRIET. I managed, Lydia, to some extent, to repair the damage which you----[_Seeing Joe, she stops in surprise._] Actually, Joe downstairs! But I felt certain this morning, my dear, when you were arguing in that unheard-of fashion, that you must be better.

LYDIA [_hastily_]. I don't think it has hurt him to come down, Aunt Harriet.

HARRIET. On the contrary, I think it has done him good.

JOE. I should say it did, Aunt Harriet,--you don't know how much. [_Again he looks toward the rear door._]

HARRIET. What is it, Joe dear? Is the doctor coming again?

JOE. No, I hardly think the doctor will need to come again.

HARRIET. Why, how gratifying. I am so glad.

[_Joe closes his eyes wearily._]

LYDIA. Aunt Harriet, Joe was just about to go up to his room, but he asked me to read something to him from the Bible first. I opened to this passage. Won't you read it to him?

HARRIET. Yes, I will indeed. It gives me great happiness, Joe, to see you really showing a desire for the holy word of the Scripture.

[_Harriet takes the Bible from Lydia and stands in the light by
the French door. She faces slightly away from Joe. Lydia walks to
the rear door and stands directly beneath the portrait. She
conceals a smile and looks expectantly toward her aunt._]

[_Reading_]: Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I----

JOE [_sitting erect and interrupting_]. Many mansions--many mansions--Lydia, Aunt Harriet--who said I couldn't build hou--houses--in----

[_He sinks back. Harriet does not look at him, but shuts the Bible
with displeasure and moves forward to place it on the table._]

HARRIET [_coldly_]. That is positive sacrilege, Joe.

[_Lydia laughs triumphantly and steps to Joe's side, walking on
her tip-toes and pretending to dance, pleased at her aunt's
discomfiture._]

LYDIA [_stopping by Joe and bending over him_]. Didn't I say it was a prophecy?

[_Joe does not answer nor open his eyes. Lydia takes his hand and
then drops it in fear._]

LYDIA. Aunt Harriet, come here quickly!

[_Harriet comes swiftly and stoops over Joe. She feels of his
pulse and lays her hand against his heart._]

HARRIET. Joe, Joe!

LYDIA [_moving distractedly toward the door_]. I'll call the doctor.

HARRIET [_standing very straight and twisting her handkerchief_]. It will do no good, Lydia. Joe has gone. This is the way your father went and your grandfather--all the men in the Wilde family. But this is irregular. They never died so young.

[_Lydia covers her face with her hands._]

HARRIET. And he seems so well. Why didn't the doctor--Lydia! This was their secret--this is what they wouldn't tell me!

LYDIA. Secret? Which secret?

[_She looks at Joe and clasps her hands in anguish. Harriet kneels
by the lounge and begins to pray._]

HARRIET. Dear Lord, I do beseech thee to grant peace and eternal rest to thy child come home to thee. Grant that he may forever sit in thy presence----

[_Lydia, slowly realizing what her aunt is saying, runs to her
side and makes her rise._]

LYDIA. Stop that! Stop it, I say! You worried him enough when he was alive. Now that he's dead, let him do what he wants to.

HARRIET. Lydia! You have lost your senses. Be calm, be calm. [_Harriet crosses to the table and picks up the Bible._] Come. We will read a few verses and have faith that--

LYDIA [_snatching the Bible from her aunt_]. No you shan't! Let him alone. Oh, Joe, Joe, I'm trying. Be brave! You knew, all along. You were watching, you were expecting. Why didn't you tell me? [_Lydia looks from Joe to the piano and back to Joe. She composes herself and puts her hands on her aunt's shoulders._] Where is the key to the piano?

HARRIET [_horrified_]. You wouldn't touch the piano in the presence of death!

LYDIA. Where is the key?

HARRIET [_unable to fathom Lydia's strange demand_]. It is gone. I don't know where it is.

LYDIA. Don't you? Don't you? [_Sliding her hands toward her aunt's throat and turning toward Joe._] Be brave, Joe. [_Speaking to her aunt._] Then if the key is gone, I shall have to take the fire-tongs.

[_Lydia steps toward the fire-place._]

HARRIET. Lydia! Don't touch them! What are you about?

LYDIA [_coming again to her aunt and placing her hands on her shoulders_]. I want--that--key. And I want it quickly.

[_They look squarely into one another's eyes._]

HARRIET [_uncertainly_]. I can't give it to you now. I will never give it to you.

LYDIA. No? [_Almost breaking down._] Joe, why didn't you tell me? [_Walking toward the hearth._] Very well, Aunt Harriet.

HARRIET [_passing her hand over her eyes in terror_]. Wait! Look in that old vase on the mantel. No--the one that we never use--with the crack in it--

[_Lydia takes down the vase and tilts it. A key falls on the
hearth with a ringing sound. She picks it up and quickly opens the
piano._]

HARRIET. To think that this should happen in my house. Lord, what have I done to deserve it?

LYDIA [_seating herself at the piano_]. Joe, this sounds like wind blowing through willow trees. [_She plays softly._] Good-by, Joe, good-by, dear. Good luck!

HARRIET [_pulling down the blinds on either side of the fire-place_]. Lydia, have you no religion?

LYDIA [_controlling her agitation_]. Yes--I have.

HARRIET [_looking from Lydia to Joe_]. I can't understand. Joe, poor Joe.

LYDIA. Let not your heart be troubled.... [_Continuing to play._] I'm smiling, Joe. I'm laughing, Joe! Be strong....

[_Harriet is stupefied. She starts toward Lydia, but stops. She
lifts the Bible from the table, but replaces it hastily, as Lydia
looks across at her._]

LYDIA [_dreamily_]. In my Father's house are many mansions.

[_Harriet looks to the portrait above the door, as if for help._]

LYDIA. If it were not so--I would have told you--

[_And Lydia looks mystically out into space and continues to play
while_

_The Curtain Falls._]

TRIFLES

A PLAY

BY SUSAN GLASPELL

Copyright, 1920, by Small, Maynard & Company.
All rights reserved.

TRIFLES was first produced by the Provincetown Players, at the Wharf
Theatre, Provincetown, Mass., on August 8th, 1916, with the following
cast:

GEORGE HENDERSON _Robert Rogers_.
HENRY PETERS _Robert Conville_.
LEWIS HALE _George Cram Cook_.
MRS. PETERS _Alice Hall_.
MRS. HALE _Susan Glaspell_.

It was later produced by the Washington Square Players at the Comedy
Theatre, New York City, on the night of November 15th, 1916, with the
following cast:

GEORGE HENDERSON _T. W. Gibson_.
HENRY PETERS _Arthur E. Hohl_.
LEWIS HALE _John King_.
MRS. PETERS _Marjorie Vonnegut_.
MRS. HALE _Elinor M. Cox_.

Reprinted from "Plays" by Susan Glaspell, published by Small, Maynard
& Company, by permission of Miss Susan Glaspell and Messrs. Small,
Maynard & Company. The professional and amateur stage rights on this
play are strictly reserved by the author. Applications for permission
to produce this play must be made to Miss Susan Glaspell, care of
Small, Maynard & Company, 41 Mt. Vernon Street, Boston, Mass.

TRIFLES

A PLAY BY SUSAN GLASPELL

[SCENE: _The kitchen in the now abandoned farm-house 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 door._]

COUNTY ATTORNEY [_rubbing his hands_]. This feels good. Come up to the fire, ladies.

MRS. PETERS [_after taking a step forward_]. I'm not--cold.

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 yesterday.

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 to-day 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 the house.

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 he, 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 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, sticky._]

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 break.

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 together._]

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 full length again._]

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 year.

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 place.

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 cheerful 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 us.

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 criticizing.

[_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, front table. 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 cloth 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 in?

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.

[_Quickly shuts door leading upstairs._]

MRS. HALE [_abruptly moving toward her_]. Mrs. Peters?

MRS. PETERS. Yes, Mrs. Hale?

MRS. HALE. Do you think she did it?

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 feeling.

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 here. [_Makes a move as if to finish work, then turns and looks at loaf of bread outside the bread-box. 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 against her!

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 out.

[_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 corner
table._]

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 Attorney._]

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 of 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 table._]

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 things.

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 string.

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 should 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 some one must have been rough with it.

MRS. PETERS. Why, yes.

[_She brings the cage forward and puts it on the table._]

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 some times 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 and--fluttery. How--she--did--change. [_Silence; then as if struck by a happy thought and relieved to get back to every day things._] Tell you what, Mrs. Peters, why don't you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her mind.

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. Peters--it's--

[_Mrs. Peters bends closer._]

MRS. PETERS. It's the bird.

MRS. HALE [_jumping up_]. But, Mrs. Peters--look at it. Its neck! Look at its neck! It's all--other side _to_.

MRS. PETERS. Somebody--wrung--its neck.

[_Their eyes met. 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 rises._]

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 bird-cage._] 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._]

MRS. PETERS. Well, not now. They're superstitious, you know. They leave.

COUNTY ATTORNEY [_to Sheriff Peters, continuing an interrupted conversation_]. No sign at all of any one 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 some one 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 pretty box.

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 the bird.

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 bird-cage._]

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 then----

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.