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.
[Phœbe rushes to Olive, and clings to her, sobbing.
Phœbe. 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 bones. This witch-work makes them to creep with chills like long snakes.
Olive. They say my mother will soon be hanged, and I perchance a witch, and the cause of it. I cannot get over it. (Moves away from them.) If I be a witch, I shall hurt thee, as I perchance have hurt them. [Weeps.
Paul. Olive Corey, what is that?
Olive (looking up). What? What mean you, Paul? [Nancy and Phœbe stare.
Paul. There, over the cupboard. Is it— Yes, 'tis—cobwebs. I trow I never saw such a sight in Goodwife Corey's house before.
Olive. I will brush them down, Paul.