y of doing it."

In a covert way Mrs. Hale looked at Mrs. Peters. Mrs. Peters was looking
at her. Quickly they looked away from each other. The outer door opened
and Mr. Hale came in.

"I've got the team round now," he said. "Pretty cold out there."

"I'm going to stay here awhile by myself," the county attorney suddenly
announced. "You can send Frank out for me, can't you?" he asked the
sheriff. "I want to go over everything. I'm not satisfied we can't do
better."

Again, for one brief moment, the two women's eyes found one another.

The sheriff came up to the table.

"Did you want to see what Mrs. Peters was going to take in?"

The county attorney picked up the apron. He laughed.

"Oh, I guess they're not very dangerous things the ladies have picked
out."

Mrs. Hale's hand was on the sewing basket in which the box was
concealed. She felt that she ought to take her hand off the basket. She
did not seem able to. He picked up one of the quilt blocks which she had
piled on to cover the box. Her eyes felt like fire. She had a feeling
that if he took up the basket she would snatch it from him.

But he did not take it up. With another little laugh, he turned away,
saying:

"No; Mrs. Peters doesn't need supervising. For that matter, a sheriff's
wife is married to the law. Ever think of it that way, Mrs. Peters?"

Mrs. Peters was standing beside the table. Mrs. Hale shot a look up at
her; but she could not see her face. Mrs. Peters had turned away. When
she spoke, her voice was muffled.

"Not--just that way," she said.

"Married to the law!" chuckled Mrs. Peters' husband. He moved toward the
door into the front room, and said to the county attorney:

"I just want you to come in here a minute, George. We ought to take a
look at these windows."

"Oh--windows," said the county attorney scoffingly.

"We'll be right out, Mr. Hale," said the sheriff to the farmer, who was
still waiting by the door.

Hale went to look after the horses. The sheriff followed the county
attorney into the other room. Again--for one final moment--the two women
were alone in that kitchen.

Martha Hale sprang up, her hands tight together, looking at that other
woman, with whom it rested. At first she could not see her eyes, for the
sheriff's wife had not turned back since she turned away at that
suggestion of being married to the law. But now Mrs. Hale made her turn
back. Her eyes made her turn back. Slowly, unwillingly, Mrs. Peters