(Betty springs to her aunt’s side and puts her arms around her.)
Betty. Dear aunt, ’tis a false charge—I know it. They would not execute an innocent man.
(Miss B. sinks into a chair as if about to faint. Betty runs and gets wine. Mrs. C. rushes to the fireplace, seizes a turkey wing and burns it, then holds it under Miss B.’s nose. She waves aside wine and feathers.)
Mrs. C. Burnt feathers are so reviving!
Miss B. (recovering). I want no wine, or sympathy, so called. If my best friend is unjustly accused, I will journey to Boston and see him righted. Methinks I have some influence on both sides of this quarrel.
(Mrs. S. and Mrs. C. look at one another.)
Mrs. C. (aside). ’Tis best to go now. Miss Boltwood, pray call on us if we can be of any assistance.
Mrs. S. (spitefully). Mayhap you would prefer solitude for the recovery of your equanimity.
[Exeunt Mrs. S. and Mrs. C.
Betty. Pray, aunt, let us go immediately to Boston. Every minute may be precious.