Deliverance’s sharp eyes spied the guilty offender.
“Ebenezer Gibbs,” said she, “stop your wickedness, and as for ye, Stability Williams, cease your idle soughing.”
For awhile all was quiet. Then, there broke forth a muffled sob from Stability, followed by an irrepressible giggle from the boys. Deliverance stepped down from the platform and rapped Ebenezer Gibbs’ head smartly with her thimble.
“Ye rude and ill-mannered boy,” she cried; “have ye no shame to be pulling Stability Williams’ hair and inticing others to laugh at your evil doings? Ye can just come along now and stand in the crying-corner.”
The crying-corner was the place where the children stood to weep after they had been punished. Pathetic record of childish grief was this corner, the pine boards black with the imprint of small grimy fingers and spotted with tears from little wet faces. Doubtless Deliverance rapped the offender more severely than she intended, for he wept steadily. Although she knew he deserved the reproof, his crying smote her heart sorely.
“Ebenezer Gibbs,” she said, after a while, “when ye think ye have weeped sufficient long, ye can take your seat.”
But he continued to weep and sniffle the entire morning, not even ceasing when his companions had their resting-minute. The day was quite spoiled for Deliverance by the sight of the tiny figure with the cropped head pressed close in the corner, as the culprit rested first on one foot and then the other.
Altogether she was very glad when Dame Grundle rang the bell for dismissal, and she could put on the children’s things and conduct them home. It was a pleasant walk to town through the woods. Deliverance, at the head of her little procession, always entered the village at an angle to pass the meeting-house where all important news was given forth and public gatherings held. The great front door faced the highway and was the town bulletin board. Sometimes a constable was stationed near by to read the message aloud to the unlettered. A chilling wind swept down the road this morning as Deliverance and her following drew near.
Inside the meeting-house the great witch-trial was still in session. A large crowd, which could not be accommodated inside, thronged the steps and peered in through the windows. The sun which had risen so brightly, had disappeared. The gray sky, the raw air, hung gloomily over the scene, wherein the sad-coloured garments of the gentlefolk made a background for the bright bodices of the goodwives, and the red, green, and blue doublets of the yeomen. Soldiers mingled with the throng. So much noise had disturbed the court that the great door had been ordered closed. On the upper panels wolves’ heads (nailed by hunters in proof of their success that they might receive the bounty), with grinning fangs and blood trickling to the steps, looked down upon the people.
The children with Deliverance grew frightened and clutched at her dress, trying to drag her away, but she, eager to hear whatever news there was, silenced them peremptorily.