Giles Corey, Yeoman Part 2

_Olive._ She is better.

_Giles._ She was taken strangely, if your mother did make light of it. And the ox, hath he fell down again?

_Olive._ Not that I have heard.

_Giles._ The ox was taken strangely, if your mother did pooh at it.

The ox was better when she went out of the yard.

_Phoebe._ There's Aunt Corey now. Who is she talking to?

_Enter_ Martha Corey.

_Phoebe._ Who were you talking to, Aunt Corey?

_Martha._ n.o.body, child. Good-evening, Ann.

_Phoebe._ I heard you talking to somebody, Aunt Corey.

_Martha._ Be quiet, child. I was talking to n.o.body. You hear too much nowadays. [_Takes off her cloak._

_Nancy._ Mayhap she hears more than folk want her to. I heard a voice too, a gruff voice like a pig's.

_Giles._ I thought I heard talking too. Who was it, Martha?

_Martha._ I tell you 'twas no one. Are you all out of your wits?

[_Gets some knitting-work out of a cupboard and seats herself._

_Phoebe._ Weren't you afraid coming through the wood, Aunt Corey?

_Martha_ (_laughing_). Afraid? Why, no, child. Of what should I be afraid?

_Giles._ I trow there's plenty to be afraid of. How did you get home so quick? 'Tis a good three miles to Goody Bishop's.

_Martha._ I walked at a good speed.

_Giles._ I thought perhaps you galloped a broomstick.

_Martha._ Nay, goodman, I know not how to manage such a strange steed.

_Giles._ I thought perhaps one had taught you, inasmuch as you have naught to say against the gentry that ride the broomstick of a night.

_Martha._ Fill not the child's head with such folly. How fares your mother, Ann?

_Ann._ Well, Goodwife Corey.

_Giles._ She lacks sense, or she would have kept her daughter at home. Out after nightfall, and the woods full of the devil knoweth what.

_Martha._ Nay, goodman, there be no danger. The scouts are in the fields.

_Giles._ I meant not Injuns. There be worse than Injuns. There be evil things and witches!

_Martha_ (_laughing_). Witches! Goodman, you are a worse child than Phoebe here.

_Giles._ I tell ye, wife, you talk like a fool, ranting thus against witches. I would you had been where I have been to-night, and heard the afflicted maids cry out in torment, being set upon by Sarah Good and Sarah Osborn. I would you had seen Mercy Lewis strangled almost to death, and the others testifying 'twas Sarah Good thus afflicting her. But I'll warrant you'd not have believed them.

_Martha_ (_laughing_). That I would not, goodman. I would have said that the maids should be sent home and soundly trounced, then put to bed, with a quart bowl of sage tea apiece.

_Giles._ Talk so if you will. One of these days folk will say you be a witch yourself. You were ever hard-skulled, and could knock your head long against a truth without being p.r.i.c.ked by it. Hold out if you can, when only this morning the ox and the cat were took so strangely here in our own household.

_Martha._ Shame on you, goodman! The ox and the cat themselves would laugh at you. The cat ate a rat, and it did not set well on her stomach, and the ox slipped in the mire in the yard.

_Nancy._ 'Twas more than that. I know, I know.

_Giles._ Laugh if you will, wife. Mayhap you know more about it than other folk. You never could abide the cat. I am going to bed, if I can first go to prayer. Last night the words went from me strangely! But you will laugh at that. [_Lights a candle. Exit._

_Phoebe._ Aunt Corey, may I eat an apple?

_Martha._ Not to-night. 'Twill give you the nightmare.

_Phoebe._ No, 'twill not.

_Martha._ Be still!

_There is a knock._ Olive _opens the door. Enter_ Paul Bayley. Ann _starts up._

_Paul._ Good-evening, goodwife. Good-evening, Olive. Good-evening, Ann. 'Tis a fine night out.

_Ann._ I must be going; 'tis late.

_Olive._ Nay, Ann, 'tis not late. Wait, and Paul will go home with you through the wood.

_Ann._ I must be going.

_Paul_ (_hesitatingly_). Then let me go with you, Mistress Ann! I can well do my errand here later.

_Ann._ Nay, I can wait whilst you do the errand, if you are speedy.

I fear lest the delay would make you ill at ease.

_Martha_ (_quickly_). There is no need, Paul. I will go with Ann. I want to borrow a hood pattern of Goodwife Nourse on the way.

_Paul._ But will you not be afraid, goodwife?

_Martha._ Afraid, and the moon at a good half, and only a short way to go?

_Paul._ But you have to go through the wood.

_Martha._ The wood! A stretch as long as this room--six ash-trees, one b.u.t.ternut, and a birch sapling thrown in for a witch spectre.

Say no more, Paul. Sit you down and keep Olive company. I will go, if only for the sake of showing these silly little hussies that there is no call for a gospel woman with prayer in her heart to be afraid of anything but the wrath of G.o.d. [_Puts a blanket over her head._