_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