"That's a good child—and do try and look a little like old times. What if the minister and our Lizzy should come back to-day?—who knows?"
"Heaven forbid!" cried the young girl, in pale affright. "I am not ready yet. How can I tell what the woman wants till she speaks to me? If Anna Hutchinson must be avenged, explain how the evil thing is to be done. Dear Tituba, tell me truly. You don't expect the minister home to-day?"
"Why, how can I tell for certain? He ought to have been home weeks ago."
"Am I changed, Tituba? Hold up the looking-glass, and let me see for myself."
Tituba raised the little looking-glass, in its carved cherry-wood frame, and held it before the girl's face.
Abby shook her head mournfully.
"How old I look! What a strange glitter comes and goes in these eyes. It is the Indian blood, I suppose. That, and the things I have been told, Tituba. Don't it seem a great deal more than three weeks since the minister went away?"
"I don't know—yes! I shouldn't wonder if it seems so; but Tituba counts time from the week when Miss Elizabeth went off to visit Lady Phipps in her grand, new house at Boston. Oh, it will be like a bird getting back to its nest when she comes home."
"A bird getting back to its nest—old Tituba? Well, why not? She will sleep quietly, and dream sweetly as ever. It is only I—I. Come, old Tituba, let's go down to breakfast; at least we have twelve hours of day before us: who knows what another night will bring?"
"Yes, yes—come to breakfast; it's unhealthy talking on an empty stomach."