Law. P. A cross, scolding woman; a woman who left her own fireside to gossip and make scandal among her neighbors; who neglected her home; who got your meals at all or no times and let you look out for yourself; who abused the little children around her; who—
Far. H. Stop, mister! Betsey couldn’t do none o’ them things. Why, you’d make her out a pretty sort o’ critter for me to hev been livin’ with these forty years!
Law. P. No, Betsey couldn’t do all or any of these things. From your own story you have a saint instead of an ordinary woman for a wife; a being who knows that essence of all true happiness—how to hold her tongue; who, instead of lowering herself to petty quarrels and commonplace bickerings, keeps her temper within bounds while you are purposely doing all you possibly can to aggravate her—to make her dislike you—to—
Far. H. (Shamefacedly.) Sho! You air trying to make out a purty strong case against me, ain’t you now? I never looked at it in jest that light before, an’ you can’t tell how a few words now an’ then would splice up things in general.
Law. P. If your wife were to come to me and demand a divorce, after what you have told me, I should be strongly tempted to take up her case.
Far. H. Betsey git a divorce from me! Thet’s the best yet! Well, I should as soon think o’ the sky falling. (Knock at door, voice outside asking if Lawyer Porter is in.) I’ll be everlastin’ly simmered, ef thet don’t sound like Betsey’s voice this actual minute! Whar’ll I go? I don’t want to be found around these parts; but, what in the name o’ conscience kin she want with you, now? (Glares, at the lawyer, who takes him by the shoulder and leads him up to closet door or behind a screen.)
Law. P. Step into this cover, and be quick about it. You’ll soon ascertain what your wife wants of me. And remember, this is a private interview which you are not to interrupt (Farmer Hanks disappears, and the lawyer goes to door.)
(Enter Mrs Hanks, hesitatingly.)
Law. P. Good morning, madame! What can I do for you? Let me give you a chair. (Seats her with back to closet or screen. Farmer H. pokes his head out.)
Far. H. I’ll be durned but it is Betsey! (Comes half out into room, but Lawyer P. scowls and motions him back. Mrs. Hanks sits silent.)