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.

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, noticing 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 petticoat 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 anything 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 everything.  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 LAWYER 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 supervising.  For that matter, a sheriff’s wife is married to the law.  Ever think of it that way, Mrs Peters?