_Phoebe._ There is a dame in a black hood coming past the popple-trees. Oh, Nancy, come quick; see if it be Aunt Corey!

_Nancy._ Where be my spectacles--where be they? (_Runs about the room searching._) Oh Lord, what's the use of living to be so old that you're scattered all over the house like a seed thistle! Having to hunt everywhere for your eyes and your wits whenever you want to use 'em, and having other folks a-meddling with 'em! Where be the spectacles? They be not in the cupboard; they be not on the dresser.

Where be they? I trow this be witch-work. I know well enough what has become of my good horn spectacles. Goody Bishop hath witched them away, thinking they would suit well with her fine hood. I know well that I--

_Phoebe_ (_sobbing aloud_). Oh, Nancy, it is not Aunt Corey. It is only Goodwife Nourse.

_Nancy._ May the black beast catch her! Be you sure?

_Phoebe._ Yes; she is pa.s.sing our gate. Oh, Nancy, what shall we do? what shall we do?

_Nancy._ I would that I had my fingers in old man Hathorne's fine wig. I would yank it off for him, and fling it to the pigs.

A-sending master and mistress to jail, and they no more witches than I be!

_Phoebe._ Oh, Nancy, be we witches? They have not sent us to jail.

_Nancy._ I know not what we be. My old head will not hold it all.

It is time they came home. There is not a crumb of sweet-cake in the house, and the stopple is so tight in the cider-barrel that I cannot stir it a peg. [_Weeps._

_Phoebe._ Nancy, did they send Aunt Corey and Uncle Corey to jail because I stuck the pins in my doll?

_Nancy._ I know not. I tell ye my old head spins round like a flax-wheel; when I put my finger on one spoke 'tis another one.

These things be too much for a poor old woman like me. It takes folks like their worships the magistrates and Minister Parris to deal with black men and witches, and keep their wits in no need of physic.

_Phoebe._ Oh, Nancy, I know what I will do! Oh, 'tis well I s.n.a.t.c.hed my doll off the meeting-house table that day after the trial, and ran home with it under my ap.r.o.n! (_Runs to the settle, takes up the doll, which is lying there, and kisses it._) Here is one kiss for Aunt Corey, here is another kiss for Aunt Corey, here is another, and another, and another. Here is one kiss for Uncle Corey, and here is another kiss for Uncle Corey, and here is another, and another, and another. There, Nancy! will not this do away with the pin p.r.i.c.ks, and they be let out of jail?

_Nancy._ I know not. My old head bobs like a pumpkin in a pond. I would master and mistress were home. These be troublous times for an old woman. I would I could stir the stopple in the cider-barrel.

Look again, and see if mistress be not coming up the road.

_Phoebe._ It is of no use. I have looked for a whole week, and she has not come in sight. I want my Aunt Corey! Nancy, have I not done away with the pin p.r.i.c.ks? Tell me, will she be not let out of jail?

Oh, there's Paul coming past the window! He's got home! Olive!

Olive!

_Enter_ Paul Bayley. Phoebe _runs to him._

_Phoebe._ Oh, Paul, they've put Aunt Corey and Uncle Corey in Salem jail while you were gone! Can't you get them out, Paul, can't you?

_Paul._ Where is Olive?

_Phoebe._ She is in her chamber. She stays there all the time at prayer. Olive! Olive! Paul is come.

[_Calls at the foot of chamber stairs._

_Paul._ Olive!

Olive _comes slowly down the stairs and enters._

_Paul_ (_seizing her in his arms_). Oh, my poor la.s.s, what is this that hath come to thee?

_Olive._ This is what thou feared when we parted, Paul, and more.

_Paul._ I but heard of it as I came through Salem on my way hither.

Oh, 'tis devilish work!

_Olive._ They let me loose, but father and mother are in Salem jail.

_Paul._ Poor la.s.s!

_Olive._ Can you do naught to help them, Paul?

_Paul._ Olive, I will help them, if there be any justice or unclouded minds left in the colony.

_Olive._ Thou art in truth here, Paul; it is thy voice.

_Paul._ Whose voice should it be, dear heart?

_Olive._ I know not. For a week I have thought I heard so many voices. The air seemed full of voices a-calling me, but I heeded them not, Paul. I kept all the time at prayer and heeded them not.

_Paul._ Of course thou didst not. There were no voices to heed.

_Olive._ Sometimes I thought I heard birds twittering, and sometimes I thought there was something black at my elbow, and in the night-time faces at my window. Paul, was there aught there?

_Paul._ No, no; there was naught there. Birds and black beasts and faces! This be all folly, Olive!

_Olive._ They saw a black man by my side in the meeting-house--Ann saw him. She cried out that the cape I gave her put her to dreadful torment. Can I have been a witch unknowingly, and so done this great evil to my father and mother? Tell me, Paul.

_Paul._ Call up thy wits, Olive! I tell thee thou art no witch.

There was no black man at thy side in the meeting-house. Black man!

I would one would verily lay hands on that lying hussy. Thou art no witch.

[Phoebe _rushes to_ Olive, _and clings to her, sobbing._

_Phoebe._ You are not a witch, Olive. You are not. If Ann says so I will pinch her and scratch her. I will! yes, I will--I will scratch her till the blood runs. You are not a witch. I was the one that got them into jail. I stuck pins into my doll, but I have made up for it now. They'll be let out. Don't cry, Olive.

_Nancy._ Don't you fret yourself, Olive. I trow there's no witch-mark on you. It's Goody Bishop in her fine silk hood that's at the bottom on't. I know, I know. Perchance Paul could loose the stopple in the cider-barrel. I am needful of somewhat to warm my old bones. This witch-work makes them to creep with chills like long snakes.

_Olive._ They say my mother will soon be hanged, and I perchance a witch, and the cause of it. I cannot get over it. (_Moves away from them._) If I be a witch, I shall hurt thee, as I perchance have hurt them. [_Weeps._

_Paul._ Olive Corey, what is that?

_Olive_ (_looking up_). What? What mean you, Paul? [Nancy _and_ Phoebe _stare._

_Paul._ There, over the cupboard. Is it--Yes, 'tis--cobwebs. I trow I never saw such a sight in Goodwife Corey's house before.

_Olive._ I will brush them down, Paul.

_Paul_ (_looking at the floor_). And I doubt me much if the floor has been swept up this week past, and the hearth is all strewn with ashes. I trow Goodwife Corey would weep could she see her house thus.

_Olive._ I will get the broom, Paul.