Ann. I came over to see Olive, Goodman Corey.

Giles. You’d best stayed by your own hearth if you’ve got one.  Young women have no call to be out gadding after dark in these times.

Phoebe. Oh, Uncle Corey, something did frighten Ann as she came through the wood.  A black beast, with horns and a tail and eyes like balls of fire, jumped out of the bushes at her, and bade her sign the book in a dreadful voice.

Giles. What!  Was’t so, Ann?

Ann. I know not.  There was something.

Olive (laughing).  ’Twas naught but Ann’s own shadow that her fear gave a voice and a touch to.  Say naught to frighten Ann, father; she is the most timorous maid in Salem Village now.

Giles. There is some wisdom in fear nowadays.  You make too light of it, lass.

Olive (laughing).  Nay, father, I’ll turn to and hang up my own shadow in the chimbly-place for a witch, an you say so.

Giles. This be no subject for jest.  Said you the black beast spoke to you, Ann?

Ann. I know not.  Once I thought I heard Olive calling.  I know not what I heard.

Giles. You’d best have stayed at home.  Where is your mother, Olive?

Olive. She has gone to Goodwife Bishop’s with a basket of eggs.

Giles. Gone three miles to Goodwife Bishop’s this time of night?  Is the woman gone out of her senses?

Olive. She is not afraid.

Giles. I’ll warrant she is not afraid.  So much the worse for her.  Mayhap she’s gone riding on a broomstick herself.  How is the cat?

Olive. She is better.

Giles. She was taken strangely, if your mother did make light of it.  And the ox, hath he fell down again?

Olive. Not that I have heard.

Giles. The ox was taken strangely, if your mother did pooh at it.  The ox was better when she went out of the yard.

Phoebe. There’s Aunt Corey now.  Who is she talking to?

Enter Martha Corey.

Phoebe. Who were you talking to, Aunt Corey?

Martha. Nobody, child.  Good-evening, Ann.

Phoebe. I heard you talking to somebody, Aunt Corey.

Martha. Be quiet, child.  I was talking to nobody.  You hear too much nowadays. [Takes off her cloak.

Nancy. Mayhap she hears more than folk want her to.  I heard a voice too, a gruff voice like a pig’s.

Giles. I thought I heard talking too.  Who was it, Martha?

Martha. I tell you ’twas no one.  Are you all out of your wits? [Gets some knitting-work out of a cupboard and seats herself.

Phoebe. Weren’t you afraid coming through the wood, Aunt Corey?

Martha (laughing).  Afraid?  Why, no, child.  Of what should I be afraid?