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[Who is standing by the table.] Well, I don’t see any signs of anger around here.
[She puts her hand on the dishtowel which lies on the table, stands looking down at the table, one half of which is clean, the other half messy.] It’s wiped to here.
[Makes a move as if to finish work, then turns and looks at a loaf of bread outside the breadbox. Drops towel. In that voice of coming back to familiar things.]
Wonder how they are finding things upstairs. I hope she had it a little more red-up up there. You know, it seems kind of sneaking.
Locking her up in town and then coming out here and trying to get her own house to turn against her!
But Mrs. Hale, the law is the law.
I s’pose ’tis. [Unbuttoning her coat.] Better loosen up your things, Mrs. Peters. You won’t feel them when you go out.
[MRS. PETERS takes off her fur tippet, goes to hang it on the hook at the back of the room, stands looking at the under part of the small corner table.
She was piecing a quilt. [She brings the large sewing basket and they look at the bright pieces.
It’s a log cabin pattern. Pretty, isn’t it? I wonder if she was goin’ to quilt it or just knot it? [Footsteps have been heard coming down the stairs.
The SHERIFF enters followed by HALE and the COUNTY ATTORNEY.
They wonder if she was going to quilt it or just knot it! [The men laugh, the women look abashed.
COUNTY ATTORNEY [Rubbing his hands over the stove.] Frank’s fire didn’t do much up there, did it? Well, let’s go out to the barn and get that cleared up.
[Resentfully.] I don’t know as there’s anything so strange, our takin’ up our time with little things while we’re waiting for them to get the evidence.
[She sits down at the big table smoothing out a block with the decision.] I don’t see it as it’s anything to laugh about.
The trouble about doing anything for your fellow-man is that you have to do it with a few of them. Oh, of course that isn’t fair. We care. I’ll say that for us. Even Oscar cares, or he wouldn’t work the way he has.
But what does our caring come to? It doesn’t connect up with any¬ thing, and God knows it doesn’t seem to be making anything very beautiful of us. There’s something rather pathetic about us.
Or is it merely ridiculous ?
Let me read you something, Ed. [She takes The People and reads very simply .] “We are living now. We shall not be living long. No one can tell us we shall live again.
This is our little while. This is our chance. And we take it like a child who comes from a dark room to which he must return — comes for one sunny afternoon to a lovely hillside, and find¬ ing a hole, crawls in there till after the sun is set.
I want that child to know the sun is shining upon flowers in the grass. I want him to know it before he has to go back to the room that is dark.
I wish I had pipes to call him to the hilltop of beautiful distances. I myself could see farther if he were seeing at all. Perhaps I can tell you: you who have dreamed and dreaming know, and knowing care.
Move! Move from the things that hold you. If you move, others will. move. Come! Now. Before the sun goes down.” [Very quietly.] You wrote that, Ed.
|No. of Pages||318|
|PDF Size||46.7 MB|
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