No ... I do not, she replied.
You do not! what did you answer me for, if you didn’t hear me?
Why ... why ... don’t you see the poor little thing’s bewitched? whispered a bystander.
Very true ... very true ... let her be, therefore, let her stay where she is.
Poor babe! she don’t hear a word you say.
O, but she dooze, though, said the boy, stooping down and smoothing her thick hair with both hands; I know her of old, I know her better than you do; she hears every word you say ... don’t you be afeard, Bridgee Pope; I’m not a goin’ to be afeard of the Old Boy himself....
Why Robert Eveleth! was the reply.
Well, Robert Eveleth, what have you to say? asked the chief-judge.
The boy stood up in reply, and threw back his head with a brave air, and set his foot, and fixed his eye on the judge, and related what he knew of the knife. He had broken it a few days before, he said, while he and the witness were playing together; he threw away a part of the blade, which he saw her pick up, and when he asked her what she wanted of it, she wouldn’t say ... but he knew her well, and being jest outside o’ the door when he heard her screech, and saw her pull a piece of the broken blade out of her flesh and hold it up to the jury, and say how the shape of old mother Good, who was over tother side o’ the house at the time, had stabbed her with it, he guessed how the judge would like to see the tother part o’ the knife, and hear what he had to say for himself, but he couldn’t get near enough to speak to nobody, and so he thought he’d run off to the school-house, where he had left the handle o’ the knife, an’ try to get a mouthful o’ fresh air; and so ... and so ... arter he’d got the handle, sure enough, who should he see but that are man there (pointing to Burroughs) stavin’ away on a great black horse with a club—that very club he had now.—“Whereupon,” added the boy, “here’s tother part o’ the knife, judge—I say ... you ... Mr. judge ... here’s tother part o’ the knife ... an’ so he stopped me an’ axed me where the plague I was runnin to; an’ so I up an’ tells him all I know about the knife, an’ so, an’ so, an’ so, that air feller, what dooze he do, but he jounces me up on that air plaguy crupper and fetches me back here full split, you see, and rides over everything, and makes everybody get out o’ the way, an’ will make me tell the story whether or no ... and as for the knife now, if you put them are two pieces together, you’ll see how they match.... O, you needn’t be makin’ mouths at me, Anne Putnam! nor you nyther, Marey Lewis! you are no great shakes, nyther on you, and I ain’t afeard o’ nyther on you, though the grown people be; you wont make me out a witch in a hurry, I guess.
Boy ... boy ... how came you by that knife?