MRS. PETERS Why, I think that’s a real nice idea, Mrs. Hale. There couldn’t possibly be any objection to it, could there? Now, just what would I take? I wonder if her patches are in here--and her things. [_They look in the sewing basket._ MRS. HALE Here’s some red. I expect this has got sewing things in it. [_Brings out a fancy box._] What a pretty box. Looks like something somebody would give you. Maybe her scissors are in here. [_Opens box. Suddenly puts her hand to her nose._] Why--[_MRS. PETERS bends nearer, then turns her face away._] There’s something wrapped up in this piece of silk. MRS. PETERS Why, this isn’t her scissors. MRS. HALE [_Lifting the silk._] Oh, Mrs. Peters--its-- [_MRS. PETERS bends closer._ MRS. PETERS It’s the bird. MRS. HALE [_Jumping up._] But, Mrs. Peters--look at it! Its neck! Look at its neck! It’s all--other side _to_. MRS. PETERS Somebody--wrung--its--neck. [_Their eyes meet. A look of growing comprehension, of horror. Steps are heard outside. MRS. HALE slips box under quilt pieces, and sinks into her chair. Enter SHERIFF and COUNTY ATTORNEY. MRS. PETERS rises._ COUNTY ATTORNEY [_As one turning from serious things to little pleasantries._] Well, ladies, have you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it? MRS. PETERS We think she was going to--knot it. COUNTY ATTORNEY Well, that’s interesting, I’m sure. [_Seeing the bird-cage._] Has the bird flown? MRS. HALE [_Putting more quilt pieces over the box._] We think the--cat got it. COUNTY ATTORNEY [_Preoccupied._] Is there a cat? [_MRS. HALE glances in a quick covert way at MRS. PETERS._ MRS. PETERS Well, not _now_. They’re superstitious, you know. They leave. COUNTY ATTORNEY [_To SHERIFF PETERS, continuing an interrupted conversation._] No sign at all of anyone having come from the outside. Their own rope. Now let’s go up again and go over it piece by piece. [_They start upstairs._] It would have to have been someone who knew just the-- [_MRS. PETERS sits down. The two women sit there not looking at one another, but as if peering into something and at the same time holding back. When they talk now it is in the manner of feeling their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they are saying, but as if they can not help saying it._ MRS. HALE She liked the bird. She was going to bury it in that pretty box. MRS. PETERS [_In a whisper._] When I was a girl--my kitten--there was a boy took a hatchet, and before my eyes--and before I could get there--[_Covers her face an instant._] If they hadn’t held me back I would have--[_Catches herself, looks upstairs where steps are heard, falters weakly_]--hurt him. MRS. HALE [_With a slow look around her._] I wonder how it would seem never to have had any children around. [_Pause._] No, Wright wouldn’t like the bird--a thing that sang. She used to sing. He killed that, too. MRS. PETERS [_Moving uneasily._] We don’t know who killed the bird.