Ann (throwing it off violently).  Oh! oh!  Take it away! take it away!

Olive. Why, Ann, what ails you?

Ann. Take it away, I say!  What mean you by your cursed arts?

Olive. Why, Ann!  I have been saving a long time to buy it for you.  ’Tis like my last summer’s cape that you fancied so much.  I sent by father to Boston for it.

Ann. I need it not.

Olive. I thought ’twould suit well with your green gown.

Ann. ’Twill suit well enough with a green gown, but not with a sore heart.

Nancy. I miss my guess but it ’ll suit well enough with her heart too.  I trow that’s as green as her gown; green’s the jealous color.

Olive. You be all unstrung by your walk hither through the wood, Ann.  I’ll fold the cape up nicely for you, and you can take it when you go home.  And mind you wear it next Sabbath day, sweet.  Now I must to my wheel again, or I shall not finish my stint by nine o’clock.

Ann. Your looks show that you were up later than nine o’clock last night.

Phoebe. Oh, Ann, did you see the light in the fore room?

Ann. That did I. I stood at my chamber and saw it shine through the wood.

Nancy. You couldn’t see so far without spectacles.

Ann. It blinded me.  I could get no sleep.

Nancy. You think your eyes are mighty sharp.  Maybe your ears are too?  Maybe you heard ’em kissing at the door when he went home?

Olive. Nancy, be quiet!

Nancy. You needn’t color up and shake your head at me, Olive.  They stood kissing there nigh an hour, and he with his arm round her waist, and she with hers round his neck.  They’d kiss, then they’d eye each other and kiss again.  I know I woke up and thought ’twas Injuns, and I peeked out of my chamber window.  Such doings!  You’d ought to have seen ’em, Ann.

Phoebe. Oh, Nancy, why didn’t you wake me up?

Olive. Nancy, I’ll have no more of this.

Nancy. That’s what she ought to have said last night—­hadn’t she, Ann?  But she didn’t.  Oh, I’ll warrant she didn’t!  I know you would, Ann.

Olive. Nancy! [A noise is heard outside.

Phoebe. Oh, what’s that noise?  What is coming?

Enter Giles Corey, panting.  He flings the door to violently and slips the bolt.

Nancy. Massy! what’s after ye?

Phoebe. Oh, Uncle Corey, what’s the matter?

Giles. The matter is there be too many evil things abroad nowadays for a man to be out after nightfall.  When things that can be hit by musket balls lay in wait, old Giles Corey is as brave as any man; but when it comes to devilish black beasts and black men that musket balls bound back from—­What! you here, Ann Hutchins?  What be you out after dark for?