_The living-room in_ Giles Corey's _house._ Nancy Fox _and the
child_ Phoebe Morse _sit beside the hearth; each has her apron over
her face, weeping._

_Phoebe_ (_sobbing_). I--want my Aunt--Corey and--my Uncle Corey.
Why don't they come? Oh, deary me!

[Phoebe _jumps up and runs to the window._

_Nancy._ See you anybody coming?

_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?