Trifles: Trifles

They are followed by the two women—the SHERIFF's wife first; she is a slight wiry woman, a thin nervous face.

She had her apron in her hand and was kind of—pleating it.

Harry was going to ask her more questions but I said maybe we ought to let her tell her story first to the coroner, or the sheriff, so Harry went fast as he could to Rivers' place, where there's a telephone.

I guess before we're through she may have something more serious than preserves to worry about.

Well, women are used to worrying over trifles.

COUNTY ATTORNEY: [With the gallantry of a young politician.] And yet, for all their worries, what would we do without the ladies?

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.

No, it's strange. It must have been done awful crafty and still. They say it was such a—funny way to kill a man, rigging it all up like that.

No, it's strange. It must have been done awful crafty and still. They say it was such a—funny way to kill a man, rigging it all up like that.

[The men laugh; the women look abashed.]

MRS. HALE: [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.

Well, you mustn't reproach yourself, Mrs. Hale. Somehow we just don't see how it is with other folks until—something comes up.

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?

COUNTY ATTORNEY: [Preoccupied.] Is there a cat?

[MRS. HALE glances in a quick covert way at MRS. PETERS.]

Well, not now. They're superstitious, you know. They leave.

If they hadn't held me back I would have—[Catches herself, looks upstairs where steps are heard, falters weakly.]—hurt him.

MRS. PETERS: [Something within her speaking.] I know what stillness is. When we homesteaded in Dakota, and my first baby died—after he was two years old, and me with no other then—

COUNTY ATTORNEY: [Scoffingly.] Oh, windows!

COUNTY ATTORNEY: [Facetiously.] Well, Henry, at least we found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going to—what is it you call it, ladies?