er anxious for news such as travelers may bring. This is my wife,
Elizabeth Burchard, and she will make thee welcome. I mind me of the
time when I was once a stranger. Will thee not do us the pleasure to
sup with us?

FRANKLIN.
I scarcely, sir, know how to thank you for such kindness. All Quakers
must be kind, I think, for it was a Quaker who directed me hither.

[Franklin crosses to fire, Roger taking his hat from him. In brief
pantomime behind Franklin's back Roger has indicated that Franklin is
to take his place at table, and that he himself will sup no further.
During the conversation that follows Elizabeth is taking fresh silver
out of a quaint basket that is on the table, Franklin stands at fire,
and Roger is seated at right.

ELIZABETH.
Perhaps my husband can advise thee further where best to look for work
upon the morrow.

FRANKLIN.
I thank you. I will hear him gladly. He that cannot be counseled cannot
be helped.
[Footnote: From Franklin's "Poor Richard's Almanac".]

ROGER.
Thee means to seek for work at once, I see.

FRANKLIN.
Lost time is never found again, and since time is of all things the
most precious, I am loth to lose it.
[Footnote: From Franklin's "Poor Richard's Almanac".]

ROGER.
There is a wise head upon thy shoulders, friend. (Indicates table, and
rises.) Sit thee down, lad. Sit thee down.

ELIZABETH
(hurrying to hearth where kettle stands).
Alas! I have forgotten the kettle! The tea is not yet ready. (To
Roger.) Do thee and Benjamin Franklin talk while I prepare it. Show him
the volumes lately come from London. Thee knows the print and paper is
most pleasing.

[Roger Burchard and Benjamin Franklin sit at right in the high-backed
chairs, the volumes upon their knees. That they are true book-lovers is
instantly apparent. They are lost to everything that goes on about
them. They sit with their backs towards the door at left, quite
screened from the view of any one entering there. There is a pause.
Then Deborah Read taps softly at the door at left. Elizabeth turns and
opens the door.

DEBORAH
(finger on lip).
S-ssh! Not a word! (Glances towards the back of Roger's chair.) I've
crept up the stairs on tip-toe!

ELIZABETH.
Sweet rogue! Thee startled me to the point of dropping the kettle!
Yonder is my husband so deep in a book that the crack o' doom would
scarce rouse him. And with him is a young printer whom we have bid to
be our guest. Roger and I have finished our evening meal