"Why d'ye ask, Jem?" she replied.
"Fro' summat the knave threw out to Squoire Nicholas just now," rejoined Jem. "He said he'd another case o' witchcraft nearer whoam. Whot could he mean?"
"Whot, indeed?" cried Elizabeth, quickly.
"Look at Tib," exclaimed her son.
As he spoke, the cat sprang towards the inner door, and scratched violently against it.
Elizabeth immediately raised the latch, and found Jennet behind it, with a face like scarlet.
"Yo'n been listenin, ye young eavesdropper," cried Elizabeth, boxing her ears soundly; "take that fo' your pains—an that."
"Touch me again, an Mester Potts shan knoa aw ey'n heer'd," said the little girl, repressing her tears.
Elizabeth regarded her angrily; but the looks of the child were so spiteful, that she did not dare to strike her. She glanced too at Tib; but the uncertain cat was now rubbing himself in the most friendly manner against Jennet.
"Yo shan pay for this, lass, presently," said Elizabeth.