_Olive._ I do not, your worship.

_Ann._ She is looking at me. Oh, bid her look away, or she will kill me!

_Olive._ Oh, Ann, I do not! What mean you, dear Ann?

_Hathorne._ I charge you, Olive Corey, keep your eyes upon the floor.

_Giles._ Look where you please, la.s.s, and thy old father will uphold thee in it; and I only wish your blue eyes could shoot pins into the lying hussies.

_Hathorne._ Goodman, an ye disturb the peace again, ye shall be removed from court. Ann Hutchins, you have seen this maid hurt you?

_Ann._ Many a time she hath hurt me nigh to death.

_Olive._ Oh, Ann, I hurt thee?

_Ann._ There is a flock of yellow birds around her head.

[Olive _moves her head involuntarily, and looks up._

_Afflicted Girls._ See her look at them!

_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive?

_Olive._ I did not see them.

_Hathorne._ Ann Hutchins, did you see this maid walking in the wood with a black man last week?

_Ann._ Yes, your worship.

_Hathorne._ How did he go?

_Ann._ In black clothes, and he had white hair.

_Hathorne._ How went the accused?

_Ann._ She went in her flowered petticoat, and the flowers stood out, and smelt like real ones; her kerchief shone like a cobweb in the gra.s.s in the morning, and gold sparks flew out of her hair.

Goody Corey fixed her up so with her devilish arts to trap Paul Bayley.

_Hathorne._ What mean you?

_Ann._ To trap the black man, your worship. I knew not what I said, I was in such torment.

_Hathorne._ Olive Corey, did your mother ever so change your appearance by her arts?

_Olive._ My mother hath no arts, your worship.

_Ann._ Her cheeks were redder than was common, and her eyes shone like stars.

_Hathorne._ Olive, did your mother so change your looks?

_Olive._ No, your worship; I do not know what Ann may mean. I fear she be ill.

_Hathorne._ Mercy Lewis, did you see Olive Corey with the black man?

_Mercy._ Yes, your worship; and she called out to me to go with them to the dance, and I should have the black man for a partner; and when I would not she afflicted me, pulling my hair and pinching me.

_Hathorne._ How appeared she to you?

_Mercy._ She was dressed like a puppet, finer than I had ever seen her.

_Hathorne._ Olive, what did you wear when you walked with the black man?

_Olive._ Your worship, I walked with no black man.

_Ann._ There he is now, standing behind her, looking over her shoulder.

_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive?

_Olive_ (_looking in terror over her shoulder_). I see no one. I pray you, let my father stand near me.

_Parris._ Nay; the black man is enough for you.

_Giles_ (_forcing his way to his daughter_). Here I be, la.s.s; and it will go hard if the hussies can see the black man and old Giles in one place. Where be the black man now, jades?

_Hathorne_ (_angrily_). Marshal!

_Corwin_ (_interposing_). Nay, good Master Hathorne, let Goodman Corey keep his standing. The maid looks near swooning, and albeit his manner be rude, yet his argument hath somewhat of force. In truth, he and the black man cannot occupy one place. Mercy Lewis, see you now this black man anywhere?

_Mercy._ Yes, your worship.

_Corwin._ Where?

_Mercy._ Whispering in your worship's ear.

_Parris._ May the Lord protect his magistrates from the wiles of Satan, and maintain them in safety for the weal of his afflicted people!

_Hathorne._ This be going too far. This be presumption! Who of you now see the black man whispering to the worshipful esquire Jonathan Corwin?

_Mercy._ He is gone now out of the meeting-house. 'Twas but for a moment I saw him.

_Corwin._ Speak up, children. Did any other of ye see the black man whispering to me?

_Afflicted Girls._ No! no! no!

_Corwin._ Mercy Lewis, you say of a truth you saw him?

_Mercy._ Your worship, it may have been Minister Parris's shadow falling across the platform.