for Henry-1,000–1,200 words (you will be reading and analyzing the Susan Glaspell play, Trifles AND Do some background research on the actual events –website is provided)

1,000–1,200 words (you will be reading and analyzing the Susan Glaspell play, Trifles AND Do some background research on the actual events –website is provided)

For this assignment, you will be reading and analyzing the Susan Glaspell play, Trifles. As you read the play you will notice that its format is quite different from that of a short story or novel. At first, reading the stage directions, characters’ names and dialogue may feel awkward; but rest assured that, as you keep reading you will find your rhythm and be able to follow the story with little difficulty.

Please write an essay of 1000 words or more discussing the questions below. As always, begin your paper with an engaging introduction and clear thesis statement, develop each point in the body of your paper using examples and quotes from the play, and conclude your paper with a restatement of your thesis and closing remarks. In addition, be sure to maintain your credibility by including in-text citations and a reference list correctly formatted in APA style.

1.Setting: What is the setting of the play, in terms of the time period, region and weather? Explain the condition of the house. What emotional response does the setting evoke in you?

2.Characters: Describe the main characters: county attorney George Henderson, sheriff Henry Peters, neighbor Lewis Hale, Mrs. Hale, and Mrs. Peters. What do you also know about John and Minnie Wright? Who in this story do you feel is/are the protagonist(s) and who is/are the antagonist(s)?

3.Plot: Summarize the plot of the play in terms of its narrative arc (also known a pyramidal pattern): exposition, rising action, conflict, climax, falling action and resolution/dénouement. What makes the story suspenseful?

4.Stage Directions: Comment on Glaspell’s stage directions. What information do they reveal that you would have not been able to glean from the dialogue alone?

5.Symbolism: Elaborate on the symbolic meaning of the birdcage, the dead canary, the noose and the items referred to as “trifles.”

6.Themes: Remark on the main messages of this play. What is the meaning of the title, Trifles? In your opinion, what is Glaspell saying about gender differences and marriage in this story?

7.Genre: Because this is a play, most of the story is told in dialogue format. Articulate the differences between reading a drama and reading a short story. Comment, too, on the experience of reading a drama versus watching it performed by actors.

8.Final Thoughts: Trifles is based on a true crime story that Susan Glaspell reported on as a journalist from 1898-1901. Do some background research on the actual events (one recommended website is http://www.midnightassassin.com/index.html) and write about the increasing empathy Glaspell felt toward Margaret Hossack, the alleged murderess, as Glaspell covered the case. Do you empathize with Hossack and her fictional counterpart, Minnie Wright? Why or why not? What overall impact has the play had on you? 

 

Please listen to an audio performance of “Trifles” online at

http://archive.org/details/trifles_1101_librivox

Play

“Trifles” 1916 by Susan Glaspell (1882–1948)

Characters:

George Henderson, county attorney

Henry Peters, sheriff

Lewis Hale, a neighboring farmer

Mrs. Peters

Mrs. Hale

Scene: The kitchen in 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 breadbox, 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 about 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 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 tele-

phone.” 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 know-

ing what to say. She just pointed upstairs — like that (himself pointing

to the room above). I started for the stairs, 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 downstairs. 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 businesslike — 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.” “Some-

body 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 the rocker to that chair over there (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 Law-

yer.) She worried about that when it turned so cold. She said the

fire’d go out and her jars would break.

Sheriff (rises): Well, can you beat the woman! Held for murder and wor-

ryin’ 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 home-

making 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 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 law-

yer 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

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 fi re 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 breadbox, 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 sum-

mer. (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.) 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. I heard 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 want 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 sup-

pose 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. Hen-

derson 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 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 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 a 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 fi re 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 table.)

Mrs. Hale (examining another block): Mrs. Peters, look at this one. Here,

his 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 for-

ward.) 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 some-

times sew awful queer when I’m just tired. (Mrs. Hale starts to say some-

thing, 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. (Rises.)

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 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 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 turns 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 everyday 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 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

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 fl own?

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 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 peer-

ing 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 cannot 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 look-

ing 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 on.

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, notic-

ing 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 (takes the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes pet-

ticoat 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 any-

thing to do with — with — wouldn’t they laugh! (The men are heard

coming down stairs.)

Mrs. Hale (under her breath): Maybe they would — maybe they wouldn’t.

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 every-

thing. I’m not satisfied that we can’t do better.

Sheriff: Do you want to see what Mrs. Peters is going to take in? (The Law-

yer 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 supervis-

ing. For that matter a sheriff’s wife is married to the law. Ever think

of it that way, Mrs. Peters?

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.

Curtain