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?