"Do you mean those little brown things," cried Patty, "with hair in the middle? I've seen 'em lots of times; on her chin, too."
"Yes, dear. Well, Polly, there never was a witch that didn't have moles and warts."
"But what does Mrs. Knowles do that's bad?" says Mary, laughing a little, but growing very much interested.
"Well, she has been known to bewitch cattle, as perhaps you may have heard. Last spring Daddy Wiggins's cows crept up the scaffold,—a thing cows never did afore."
"O, but my father laughed about that. He said he guessed if Mr. Wiggins's cows had had hay enough, they wouldn't have gone out after some more; they'd have staid in the stalls."
"It will do very well for your father to talk," returned Siller, who was growing more and more excited. "Of course Goody Knowles wouldn't bewitch any of his creeturs; it's only her enemies she injures. And that makes me think, children, that it's kind of curious for us to be sitting here talking about her. She may be up on the ridge-pole of the house,—she or one of her imps,—a hearing every word we say."
"O, dear! O, dear!" cried Patty, curling her head under Siller's cape.
"Nonsense, child. I was only in fun," said the thoughtless Siller, beginning to feel ashamed of herself, for she had not intended to talk in this way to the children; "don't lets think any more about it."
And with that she hurried the little girls off to bed; but by this time their eyes were pretty wide open, as you may suppose.