SUSAN GLASPELL
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 rises)
COUNTY ATTORNEY: (As one turning from serious things to tittle 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 am sure. (Looking at bird-cage) Has the bird flown?
MRS. HALE: (Piling 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 Peters, in the manner of continuing an interrupted conversation) No sign at all of anyone having conic 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 sinks into her chair. The two women sit there not looking at one another, but as if peering into something and at the same lime 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)
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