, indecisive way:

"Well, I must get those clothes wrapped. They may be through sooner than
we think. I wonder where I could find a piece of paper--and string."

"In that cupboard, maybe," suggested Mrs. Hale, after a glance around.

* * *

One piece of the crazy sewing remained unripped. Mrs. Peters' back
turned, Martha Hale now scrutinized that piece, compared it with the
dainty, accurate sewing of the other blocks. The difference was
startling. Holding this block made her feel queer, as if the distracted
thoughts of the woman who had perhaps turned to it to try and quiet
herself were communicating themselves to her.

Mrs. Peters' voice roused her.

"Here's a bird-cage," she said. "Did she have a bird, Mrs. Hale?"

"Why, I don't know whether she did or not." She turned to look at the
cage Mrs. Peter was holding up. "I've not been here in so long." She
sighed. "There was a man round 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 looked around the kitchen.

"Seems kind of funny to think of a bird here." She half laughed--an
attempt to put up a barrier. "But she must have had one--or why would
she have a cage? I wonder what happened to it."

"I suppose maybe the cat got it," suggested Mrs. Hale, resuming her
sewing.

"No; she didn't have a cat. She's got that feeling some people have
about cats--being afraid of them. When they brought her to our house
yesterday, my cat got in the room, and she was real upset and asked me
to take it out."

"My sister Bessie was like that," laughed Mrs. Hale.

The sheriff's wife did not reply. The silence made Mrs. Hale turn round.
Mrs. Peters was examining the bird-cage.

"Look at this door," she said slowly. "It's broke. One hinge has been
pulled apart."

Mrs. Hale came nearer.

"Looks as if some one must have been--rough with it."

Again their eyes met--startled, questioning, apprehensive. For a moment
neither spoke nor stirred. Then Mrs. Hale, turning away, said brusquely:

"If they're going to find any evidence, I wish they'd be about it. I
don't like this place."

"But I'm awful glad you came with me, Mrs. Hale," Mrs. Peters put the
bird-cage on the table and sat down. "It would be lonesome for
me--sitting here alone."

"Yes, it would, wouldn't it?" agreed Mrs. Hale, a certain determined
naturalness in her voice. She had picked up the sewing, but now it
dropped in her la