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, so perhaps
thee will keep our young guest company while I prepare for meeting.

DEBORAH
(holding up warning finger).
Primp not too much for meeting, fair friend Elizabeth! A grave demeanor
goes with Quaker bonnets! (Laughs.) Yes, yes, I'll serve your printer,
play hostess, or aught else that will please you, and you can call me
when 'tis time to leave him. (Throws off her cloak, and sits by hearth
on footstool.) La! such a day! This very morn I saw the strangest