“In Ipswich,” came the reply. “He was permitted to be with me there in the jail, but when I was brought to Salem, he was taken from me. Will they be kind to him, think you, though he be a witch’s child?”
“I ken not,” answered Deliverance.
“Think you they would harden their hearts against one so small and weak, with a crooked back?” asked the woman.
Deliverance knitted her brows, and strove to think of something comforting she could say, for the woman’s words troubled her heart. Suddenly she sat up eagerly, and there was a ring of hope in her sweet, young voice.
“I remember summat which will comfort ye,” she cried, “and I doubt not the Lord in His mercy put it into my mind to tell ye.” She paused a moment to collect her thoughts.
“I am waiting,” said the woman, wistfully; “dear child, keep me not waiting.”
“Listen,” said Deliverance, solemnly; “there be a boy in the village and his name be Submit Hodge. He has a great hump on his back and bandy legs——”
“Thus has my little son,” interrupted the woman.
“And he walks on crutches,” continued Deliverance.