TRIFLES
MRS. PETERS: (Glancing around) Seems funny to think of a bird here. But she must have had one, or why should she have had 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 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. (Puts cage on 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 sewing, voice falling) 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.
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