SUSAN GLASPELL
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.
MRS. HALE: (Not as if attstvering 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. (Suddenly looking 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 on.
MRS. HALE: I might have known she needed help! I know how things can be—for women. I tell you, its 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, then seeing 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 not.
MRS. PETERS: (Picks up the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes petticoat from clothes brought front front room, very nervously begins winding that
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