And so poor Marget began to have company again, and was as pleased as a cat.  She was like ’most anybody else—­just human, and happy in her prosperities and not averse from showing them off a little; and she was humanly grateful to have the warm shoulder turned to her and he smiled upon by her friends and the village again; for of all the hard things to bear, to be cut by your neighbors and left in contemptuous solitude is maybe the hardest.

The bars were down, and we could all go there now, and we did—­our parents and all—­day after day.  The cat began to strain herself.  She provided the top of everything for those companies, and in abundance —­among them many a dish and many a wine which they had not tasted before and which they had not even heard of except at second-hand from the prince’s servants.  And the tableware was much above ordinary, too.

Marget was troubled at times, and pursued Ursula with questions to an uncomfortable degree; but Ursula stood her ground and stuck to it that it was Providence, and said no word about the cat.  Marget knew that nothing was impossible to Providence, but she could not help having doubts that this effort was from there, though she was afraid to say so, lest disaster come of it.  Witchcraft occurred to her, but she put the thought aside, for this was before Gottfried joined the household, and she knew Ursula was pious and a bitter hater of witches.  By the time Gottfried arrived Providence was established, unshakably intrenched, and getting all the gratitude.  The cat made no murmur, but went on composedly improving in style and prodigality by experience.

In any community, big or little, there is always a fair proportion of people who are not malicious or unkind by nature, and who never do unkind things except when they are overmastered by fear, or when their self-interest is greatly in danger, or some such matter as that.  Eseldorf had its proportion of such people, and ordinarily their good and gentle influence was felt, but these were not ordinary times—­on account of the witch-dread—­and so we did not seem to have any gentle and compassionate hearts left, to speak of.  Every person was frightened at the unaccountable state of things at Marget’s house, not doubting that witchcraft was at the bottom of it, and fright frenzied their reason.  Naturally there were some who pitied Marget and Ursula for the danger that was gathering about them, but naturally they did not say so; it would not have been safe.  So the others had it all their own way, and there was none to advise the ignorant girl and the foolish woman and warn them to modify their doings.  We boys wanted to warn them, but we backed down when it came to the pinch, being afraid.  We found that we were not manly enough nor brave enough to do a generous action when there was a chance that it could get us into trouble.  Neither of us confessed this poor spirit to the others, but did as other people