Against the right wall a secretary with a shelf full of handsomely- bound books. Near this two chairs with high backs that would screen from view any one sitting in them. There is a door at right background opening into the hall. Another door at left near background, opening into another room. At the rise of the curtain Roger Burchard is discovered seated at the table, on which a generous supper lies spread; while Elizabeth, his wife, is bending at the hearth. ELIZABETH. The kettle hath not yet boiled for thy second cup, Roger. 'Tis slow, yet I do not worry, for 'tis only twilight, and there is a good hour yet ere we are due at the special meeting of the Friends, and Deborah Read is to come with us. Does thee know, Roger, I sometimes think that for all her saucy ways Mistress Deborah Read is half a Friend at heart. When I do speak she listens to me most attentively. ROGER. Thee should not _force_ belief upon another, Elizabeth. ELIZABETH (demurely). I did not force: I did but talk to her, Roger. Thee knows I sun not over eloquent. How should a worldly maid of Philadelphia give ear to me? [Crosses to Roger: the kettle lies forgotten. ROGER. How, indeed! Does thee know, Elizabeth, that in so quiet a room as this I can scarce believe that a great city lies about us? 'Tis so still that I can hear the ticking of the clock. ELIZABETH. For myself, I am glad of a little rest after our journey up from Brookfield to the city. I find myself scarce used to city ways. ROGER. No more do I, Elizabeth, no more do I. I cannot think this lavish life is seemly. This table, now! Does thee note its profusion? More bread and honey and cheese and chicken pie than we can eat. Sheer waste-- unless we can share it. If there was but some poor traveler in this inn whom we might bid to supper, and---- [A knock on the door leading to hall. ELIZABETH. 'Tis William, the inn boy, with tea cakes. [Elizabeth opens the door. William enters with tea cakes on tray. He deposits the plate of cakes on table. ROGER. As I was saying--if there was but some traveler in this inn to share our evening meal--some one with pockets that were well-nigh empty---- ELIZABETH. Perhaps the inn boy knows of such a one. (To William.) Does thee not, William? Some one whose purse is not too over-burdened? WILLIAM (sturdily). Aye, that I do. A lad came here this noon from Boston. A journeyman printer so he says he is, and I'll warrant he has not above four shillings with him. (To Roger.) He's come to search for work in Philadelphia, and says he was directed to this tavern by a--by a Quaker, sir. ELIZABETH. Directed here by a Quaker--! (To Roger.) Then, Roger, all the more reason why we should bid him in. What is his name? WILLIAM. He says his name is Franklin.