_Hathorne._ What mean you by that saying?

_Hutchins._ I mean Goody Corey hath devilish arts whereby she
giveth her daughter a beauty beyond her own looks, wherewith she may
entice young men.

_Hathorne._ You say that this cape caused your daughter torment?

_Hutchins._ Your worships, it lay on her neck like a fire-brand,
and she thought she should die ere she cast it off.

_Hathorne._ Widow Hutchins, will you now put on the cape?

_Hutchins._ Oh, your worship, I dare not put it on! I fear it will
be the death of me if I do.

_Hathorne._ Minister Parris, wilt thou put on the cape?

_Parris._ Good Master Hathorne, it would ill behoove a minister of
the gospel to put himself in jeopardy when so many be depending upon
him to lead them in this dreadful conflict with the powers of
darkness. But do thou put on the mantle the while I go to prayer to
avert any ill that may come of it.

_Hathorne._ Nay, I will make no such jest of my office of
magistrate as to put this woman's gear on my shoulders. I doubt if
there be aught in it. Prithee, Widow Hutchins, when did this torment
first come upon the young woman?

_Hutchins._ Your worship, she went, as I have said, to Goody