(gravely bandaging her hand).
Than journeymen printers who eat their bread in the street. Perhaps you
are right, Mistress Deborah. I trust that the blisters will soon heal;
and that the memory of the journeyman printer will not trouble you
further.

DEBORAH
(as the church-bells begin to ring without).
The memory of a chance traveler is easily forgot, Master Franklin.

ELIZABETH
(outside door, left).
Come, Deborah, we shall be late! Come quickly, child! (Deborah snatches
up her cloak.) Bid Benjamin Franklin to wait my husband's return. He
would talk to him further concerning books. Come, Deborah!

[Exit Deborah, left, without a glance at Franklin.

FRANKLIN
(dropping into chair by secretary, right).
Do blisters burn as keen as words, I wonder? "Chance travelers...easily
forgot!" (Sits with bowed head.)

[Deborah stands again in doorway at left, sees him, comes to him
swiftly and remorsefully.

FRANKLIN
(raises his head; sees her).
Is it--