Mrs. Peters. My, it's cold in there.
[She puts the cloth 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. 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 was 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 suppose 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.