MRS HALE: In that cupboard, maybe.
MRS PETERS: (_looking in cupboard_) Why, here's a bird-cage, (_holds it
up_) Did she have a bird, Mrs Hale?
MRS HALE: Why, I don't know whether she did or not--I've not been here
for so long. There was a man around last year selling canaries cheap,
but I don't know as she took one; maybe she did. She used to sing real
pretty herself.
MRS PETERS: (_glancing around_) Seems funny to think of a bird here. But
she must have had one, or why would she have a cage? I wonder what
happened to it.
MRS HALE: I s'pose maybe the cat got it.
MRS PETERS: No, she didn't have a cat. She's got that feeling some
people have about cats--being afraid of them. My cat got in her room and
she was real upset and asked me to take it out.
MRS HALE: My sister Bessie was like that. Queer, ain't it?
MRS PETERS: (_examining the cage_) Why, look at this door. It's broke.
One hinge is pulled apart.
MRS HALE: (_looking too_) Looks as if someone must have been rough with
it.
MRS PETERS: Why, yes.
(_She brings the cage forward and puts it on the table_.)
MRS HALE: I wish if they're going to find any evidence they'd be about
it. I don't like this place.
MRS PETERS: But I'm awful glad you came with me, Mrs Hale.
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