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http://www.vcu.edu/engweb/eng384/trifles.htm
"Trifles" by Susan Glaspell (1916)
Scene: The kitchen in the now abandoned
farmhouse of John Wright, a gloomy kitchen, and left without having been put in
order--unwashed pans under the sink, a loaf of bread outside the breadbox, a
dish towel on the table--other signs of incompleted work. At the rear the outer
door opens,and the Sheriff comes in, followed by the
MRS. PETERS (after taking a step
forward). I'm not--cold.
SHERIFF (unbuttoning his overcoat and
stepping away from the stove as if to the beginning of official business).
Now, Mr. Hale, before we move things about, you explain to Mr. Henderson just
what you saw when you came here yesterday morning.
SHERIFF (looking about). It's just
the same. When it dropped below zer0 last night, I thought I'd better send
Frank out this morning to make a fire for us--no use getting pneumonia with a
big case on; but I told him not to touch anything except the stove--and you
know Frank.
SHERIFF. Oh--yesterday. When I had to
send Frank to
HALE. Harry and I had started to town
with a load of potatoes. We came along the road from my place; and as I got
here, I said, "I'm going to see if I can't get John Wright to go in with
me on a party telephone." I spoke to Wright about it once before, and he
put me off, saying folks talked too much anyway, and all he asked was peace and
quiet--I guess you know about how much he talked himself; but I thought maybe
if I went to the house and talked about it before his wife, though I said to
Harry that I didn't know as what his wife wanted made much difference to John--
HALE. I didn't hear or see anything; I
knocked at the door, and still it was all quiet inside. I knew they must be up,
it was past eight o'clock. so I knocked again, and I thought I heard somebody
say, "Come in." I wasn't sure, I'm not sure yet, but I opened the
door--this door (indicating the door by which the two women are still
standing), and there in that rocker-- (pointing to it) sat Mrs. Wright.
(They all look at the rocker.)
HALE. She was rockin' back and forth. She
had her apron in her hand and was kind of--pleating it.
HALE. Well, she looked queer.
HALE. Well, as if she didn't know what
she was going to do next. And kind of done up.
HALE. Why, I don't think she minded--one
way or other. She didn't pay much attention. I said, "How do, Mrs. Wright,
it's cold, ain't it?" And she said, "Is it?"--and went on kind
of pleating at her apron. Well, I was surprised; she didn't ask me to come up
to the stove, or to set down, but just sat there, not even looking at me, so I
said, "I want to see John." And then she--laughed. I guess you would call
it a laugh. I thought of Harry and the team outside, so I said a little
sharp:"Can't I see John?" "No," she says, kind o' dull
like. "Ain't he home?" says
HALE. Well, my first thought was to get
that rope off. I looked...(Stops, his face twitches.)...but Harry, he
went up to him, and he said, "No, he's dead all right, and we'd better not
touch anything." So we went back downstairs. She was still sitting that
same way. "Has anybody been notified?" I asked." "No,"
says she, unconcerned. "Who did this, Mrs. Wright?" said Harry. He
said it business-like--and she stopped pleatin' of her apron. "I don't
know," she says. "You don't know?" says Harry. "No,"
says she, "Weren't you sleepin' in the bed with him?" says Harry.
"Yes," says she, "but I was on the inside." "Somebody
slipped a rope round his neck and strangled him, and you didn't wake up?"
says Harry. "I didn't wake up," she said after him. We must 'a looked
as if we didn't see how that could be, for after a minute she said, "I
sleep sound." 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.
HALE. she moved from that chair to this
over here... (Pointing to a small chair in the corner)...and just sat
there with her hand held together and looking down. I got a feeling that I ought
to make some conversation, so I said I had come in to see if John wanted to put
in a telephone, and at that she started to laugh, and then she stopped and
looked at me--scared.
(The
SHERIFF. Nothing here but kitchen things.
(The
(The women draw nearer.)
MRS. PETERS (to the other woman).
Oh, her fruit; it did freeze. (To the Lawyer). She worried about that
when it turned so cold. She said the fire'd go out and her jars would break.
SHERIFF. Well, can you beat the women!
Held for murder and worryin' about her preserves.
HALE. Well, women are used to worrying
over trifles.
(The two women move a
little closer together.)
MRS. HALE (stiffly). There's a
great deal of work to be done on a farm.
MRS. HALE. Those towels get dirty awful
quick. Men's hands aren't always as clean as they might be.
MRS. HALE (shaking her head.) I've
not seen much of her of late years. I've not been in this house--it's more than
a year.
MRS. HALE. I liked her all well enough.
Farmers' wives have their hands full, Mr. Henderson. And then--
MRS. HALE (looking about.) It
never seemed a very cheerful place.
MRS. HALE. Well, I don't know as Wright
had, either.
MRS. HALE. No, I don't mean anything. But
I don't think a place'd be any cheerfuller for John Wright's being in it.
SHERIFF. I suppose anything Mrs. Peters
does'll be all right. She was to take in some clothes for her, you know, and a
few little things. We left in such a hurry yesterday.
MRS. PETERS. Yes, Mr. Henderson.
(The women listen to the
men's steps on the stairs, then look about the kitchen.)
MRS. HALE. I'd hate to have men coming
into my kitchen, snooping around and criticizing. (She arranges the pans
under sink which the Lawyer had shoved out of place.)
MRS. PETERS. Of course it's no more than
their duty.
MRS. HALE. Duty's all right, but I guess
that deputy sheriff that came out to make the fire might have got a little of
this on. (Gives the roller towel a pull.) Wish I'd thought of that
sooner. Seems mean to talk about her for not having things slicked up when she
had to come away in such a hurry.
MRS. PETERS. (who has gone to a small
table in the left rear corner of the room, and lifted on end of a towel that
covers a pan). She had bread set. (Stands still.)
MRS. HALE (eyes fixed on a loaf of
bread beside the breadbox, which is on a low shelf at the other side of the
room. Moves slowly toward it.)she was going to put this in there. (Picks
up loaf, then abruptly drops it. In a manner of returning to familiar things.)
It's a shame about her fruit. I wonder if it's all gone. (Gets up on the
chair and looks.) I think there's some here that's all right, Mrs. Peters.
Yes--here; (Holding it toward the window.) This is cherries, too. (Looking
again.) I declare I believe that's the only one. (Gets down, bottle in
her hand. Goes to the sink and wipes it off on the outside.) She'll feel
awful bad after all her hard work in the hot weather. I remember the afternoon
I put up my cherries last summer.
(She puts the bottle on
the big kitchen table, center of the room, front table. With a sigh, is about
to sit down in the rocking chair. Before she is seated realizes what chair it
is; with a slow look at it, steps back. The chair, which she has touched, rocks
back and forth.)
MRS. PETERS. Well, I must get those
things from the front room closet. [She goes to the door at the right, but
after looking into the other room, steps back.] You coming with me, Mrs.
Hale? You could help me carry them. (They go into the other room; reappear,
Mrs. Peters carrying a dress and skirt, Mrs. Hale following with a pair of
shoes.)
MRS. PETERS. My, it's cold in there. (She
puts the cloth on the big table, and hurries to the stove.)
MRS HALE (examining the skirt).
Wright was close. I think maybe that's why she kept so much to herself. She
didn't even belong to the Ladies' Aid. 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. But that--oh, that was thirty years ago. This all you was
to take?
MRS. PETERS. She said she wanted an
apron. Funny thing to want, for there isn't much to get you dirty in jail,
goodness knows. But I suppose just to make her feel more natural. She said they
was in the top drawer in this cupboard. Yes, here. And then her little shawl
that always hung behind the door. (Opens stair door and looks.) Yes,
here it is. (Quickly shuts door leading upstairs..)
MRS. HALE (abruptly moving toward her.)
Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS. Do you think she did it?
MRS. PETERS (in a frightened voice.)
Oh, I don't know.
MRS. HALE. Well, I don't think she did.
Asking for an apron and her little shawl. Worrying about her fruit.
MRS. PETERS (starts to speak, glances
up, where footsteps are heard in the room above. In a low voice.) Mrs.
Peters says it looks bad for her. Mr. Henderson is awful sarcastic in speech,
and he'll make fun of her sayin' she didn't wake up.
MRS. HALE. Well, I guess John Wright
didn't wake when they was slipping that rope under his neck.
MRS. PETERS. 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.
MRS. HALE. That's just what Mr. Hale
said. There was a gun in the house. He says that's what he can't understand.
MRS. PETERS. Mr. Henderson said coming
out that what was needed for the case was a motive; something to show anger
or--sudden feeling.
MRS. HALE (who is standing by the
table). Well, I don't see any signs of anger around here. (she puts her
hand on the dish towel which lies on the table, stands looking down at the
table, one half of which is clean, the other half messy.) It's wiped here.
(Makes a move as if to finish work, then turns and looks at 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 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!
MRS. PETERS. But, Mrs. Hale, the law is
the law.
MRS. HALE. 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
hook at the back of room, stands looking at the under part of the small corner
table.)
MRS. PETERS. She was piecing a quilt. (She
brings the large sewing basket, and they look at the bright pieces.)
MRS. HALE. It's log cabin pattern.
Pretty, isn't it? I wonder if she was goin' to quilt or just knot it? (Footsteps
have been heard coming down the stairs. The Sheriff enters, followed by Hale
and the County Attorney.)
SHERIFF. They wonder if she was going to
quilt it or just knot it. (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. (She sits down at the big
table, smoothing out a block with decision.) I don't see as it's anything
to laugh about.
MRS. PETERS. (apologetically). Of
course they've got awful important things on their minds. (Pulls up a chair
and joins Mrs. Hale at the table.)
MRS. HALE (examining another block.) Mrs. Peters, look
at this one. Here, this is the one she was working on, and look at the sewing!
All the rest of it has been so nice and even. And look at this! It's all over
the place! Why, it looks as if she didn't know what she was about! (After
she has said this, they look at each other, then start to glance back at the
door. After an instant Mrs. Hale has pulled at a knot and ripped the sewing.)
MRS. PETERS. Oh, what are you doing, Mrs.
Hale?
MRS. HALE (mildly). Just pulling out a
stitch or two that's not sewed very good. (Threading a needle). Bad
sewing always made me fidgety.
MRS. PETERS. (nervously). I don't
think we ought to touch things.
MRS. HALE. I'll just finish up this end. (Suddenly
stopping and leaning forward.) Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS. Yes, Mrs. Hale?
MRS. HALE. What do you suppose she was so
nervous about?
MRS. PETERS. Oh--I don't know. I don't
know as she was nervous. I sometimes sew awful queer when I'm just tired. (Mrs.
Hale starts to say something looks at Mrs. Peters, then goes on sewing.) Well,
I must get these things wrapped up. They may be through sooner than we think.
(Putting apron and other things together.) I wonder where I can find a
piece of paper, and string.
MRS. HALE. In that cupboard, maybe.
MRS. PETER. (looking in cupboard).
Why, here's a birdcage. (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 should
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. It would be lonesome of me sitting here alone.
MRS. HALE. It would, wouldn't it? (Dropping
her sewing). But I tell you what I do wish, Mrs. Peters. I wish I had come
over sometimes she was here. I-- (Looking around the room.)--wish I had.
MRS. PETERS. But of course you were awful
busy, Mrs. Hale---your house and your children.
MRS. HALE. I could've come. I stayed away
because it weren't cheerful--and that's why I ought to have come. I--I've never
liked this place. Maybe because it's down in a hollow, and you don't see the
road. I dunno what it is, but it's a lonesome place and always was. I wish I
had come over to see Minnie Foster sometimes. I can see now--(Shakes her
head.)
MRS. PETERS. Well, you mustn't reproach
yourself, Mrs. Hale. Somehow we just don't see how it is with other folks
until--something comes up.
MRS. HALE. Not having children makes less
work--but it makes a quiet house, and Wright out to work all day, and no
company when he did come in. Did you know John Wright, Mrs. Peters?
MRS. PETERS. Not to know him; I've seen
him in town. They say he was a good man.
MRS. HALE. Yes--good; he didn't drink,
and kept his word as well as most, I guess, and paid his debts. But he was a
hard man, Mrs. Peters. Just to pass the time of day with him. (Shivers.)
Like a raw wind that gets to the bone. (Pauses, her eye falling on the cage.)
I should think she would 'a wanted a bird. But what do you suppose went with
it?
MRS. PETERS. I don't know, unless it got
sick and died. (She reaches over and swings the broken door, swings it
again; both women watch it.)
MRS.> HALE. She--come to think of it,
she was kind of like a bird herself--real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid
and--fluttery. How--she--did--change. (Silence; then as if struck by a happy
thought and relieved to get back to everyday things.) Tell you what, Mrs.
Peters, why don't you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her mind.
MRS. PETERS. Why, I think that's a real
nice idea, Mrs. Hale. There couldn't possible 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 bend
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--it's-- (Mrs. Peters bend 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
MRS. PETERS. We think she was going
to--knot it.
MRS. HALE (putting more quilt pieces
over the box.) We think the--cat got it.
(Mrs. Hale glances in a
quick covert way at Mrs. Peters.
) MRS. PETERS. Well, not now. They're
superstitious, you know. They leave.
(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 the
manner of feeling their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they are
saying, but as if they cannot 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.
MRS. HALE. I knew John Wright.
MRS. PETERS. It was an awful thing was
done in this house that night, Mrs. Hale. Killing a man while he slept,
slipping a rope around his neck that choked the life out of him.
MRS. HALE. His neck, Choked the life out
of him.
(Her hand goes out and
rests on the birdcage.) MRS. PETERS (with a rising voice). We don't
know who killed him. We don't know.
MRS. HALE (her own feeling not
interrupted.) If there'd been years and years of nothing, then a bird to
sing to you, it would be awful--still, after the bird was still.
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--
MRS. HALE (moving). How soon do
you suppose they'll be through, looking for evidence?
MRS. PETERS. I know what stillness is.
(Pulling herself back). The law has got to punish crime, Mrs. Hale. MRS. HALE (not
as if answering that). I wish you'd seen MInnie Foster when she wore a
white dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir and sang. (A
look around the room). Oh, I wish I'd come over here once in a while! That
was a crime! That was a crime! Who's going to punish that?
MRS. Peters (looking upstairs). We
mustn't--take on.
MRS. HALE. I might have known she needed
help! I know how things can be--for women. I tell you, it's queer, Mrs. Peters.
We live close together and we live far apart. We all go through the same
things--it's all just a different kind of the same thing. (Brushes her eyes,
noticing the bottle of fruit, reaches out for it.) If I was you, I wouldn't
tell her her fruit was gone. Tell her it ain't. Tell her it's all right. Take
this in to prove it to her. She--she may never know whether it was broke or
not.
MRS. PETERS (takes the bottle, looks
about for something to wrap it in; takes petticoat from the clothes brought
from the other room, very nervously begins winding this around the bottle. In a
false voice). My, it's a good thing the men couldn't hear us. Wouldn't they
just laugh! Getting all stirred up over a little thing like a--dead canary. As
if that could have anything to do with--with--wouldn't they laugh!
(The men are heard coming
downstairs.) MRS. HALE (under her breath). Maybe they would--maybe they
wouldn't.
(The women's eyes meet
for an instant. Enter Hale from outer door.)
HALE. Well, I've got the team around.
Pretty cold out there.
SHERIFF. Do you want to see what Mrs.
Peters is going to take in?
(The Lawyer goes to the
table, picks up the apron, laughs.)
MRS. PETERS. Not--just that way.
SHERIFF (chuckling). Married to the law.
(Moves toward the other room.) I just want you to come in here a minute,
George. We ought to take a look at these windows.
SHERIFF. We'll be right out, Mr. Hale.
(Hale goes outside. The
Sheriff follows the
MRS. HALE (her hand against her pocket).
We call it--knot it, Mr. Henderson.