Abigail longed to tell the poor dame she had seen Deliverance, but dared not.
After a little, the goodwife drew her apron from her head and wiped her eyes with a corner of it. “Hark ye, Abigail, the Lord has punished me, that I took it upon myself to be a judge o’ witches. Ye recall how I telled the reverend judges I had seen a yellow bird. I saw that bird again at rise o’ sun this morn.”
Abigail shivered, although the fire was warm, and glanced around apprehensively. “It was the witch,” she cried, “what hanged her evil deeds on Deliverance.”
“It was no witch,” cried the goodwife. “I would it had been a witch.”
Abigail edged off her stool. “I must be going,” she said; “methinks I hear a witch scratching on the floor.”
But her companion pushed her back. “Sit ye down. I have summat to tell ye. The hand o’ the Lord be in it, and laid in judgment on me. Betimes this morn, led o’ the Lord, I went to Deliverance’s room. There on the sill was the yellow bird. My heart was so full o’ sadness, there was no room for fear. ‘Gin ye be a witch, ye yellow bird,’ said I, ‘ye will have hanged a maid that knew not sin.’ At this the bird flew off and lighted in the red oak tree o’ the edge o’ the clearing. I put my Bible in my pocket and hurried out after it. As I neared the red oak, I shuddered, for I thought to find the bird changed into an hag with viper eyes. But naught was to be seen. I looked up into the branches. I cried, ‘Ye shall not escape me, ye limb o’ Satan,’ and with that I clomb the tree. It was a triumph o’ the flesh at my years, and proof that the Lord was holpen me. As I stood on the lower branches, I spied a nest and four eggs. I heard a peep, and saw the mother-bird had fluttered off a little way. At her call came the yellow bird, her mate, and flew in my face. Then I was minded these very birds nested there last spring. I suspicioned all. My little Deliverance had scattered crumbs on the window-ledge for the birds.”
“Did ye look for to see?” asked Abigail.
The goodwife nodded sadly. “Ay, I found many in the cracks. I be going to see the magistrate and confess my grievous mistake. Bide ye here, Abigail, whilst I be gone, as Master Wentworth has gone herb-gathering. I will stop by and leave the cream cheeses at your mother’s.”
Left alone, Abigail tied on an apron and went briskly to work at the task the dame had given her. She cut the best part of the pumpkin into dice an inch square, in order to make a side dish to accompany meat. When well made it was almost as good as apple sauce. Having cut the pumpkin up, she put it into a pot, and poured over it a cup of cider-vinegar. Then she swung the pot on the lugpole and stirred the fire. She sighed with relief when the task was finished. At last she was free to attend to Deliverance’s errand. Was ever anything so fortunate as the goodwife’s mission to the village?
She opened the still-room door and stepped inside. The window-shutters were closed. All was cool, dark, and filled with sweet scents. At first she could see nothing, being dazzled by the light from which she had just come. Something brushed against her ankles, frightening her. But when she heard a soft purring, she was greatly relieved that it was Deliverance’s kitten. With great curiosity she looked around the room, which she had never before entered. Under the window a long board served as a work-table. It held a variety of bowls, measuring spoons, and bottles. In the centre was a very large bowl, covered by a plate. She lifted the cover and peered in, but instantly clapped the plate on again. A nauseating odour had arisen from the black liquid it contained. Hastily Abigail closed the door that the terrible fumes might not escape into the kitchen. She now perceived close by the bowl a parchment, which was written upon with black ink and stamped with a scarlet seal. With fingers that trembled at their daring, she put the parchment in her pocket. As she turned to go she screamed, unmindful in her fright that she might be heard.