_Corwin._ Hath she ever afflicted you? Your replies be not to the point, woman. _Nancy._ Your worship, she hath never had any respect for my understanding, and that hath greatly afflicted me. _Hathorne._ Hath she ever shown you a book to sign? _Nancy._ Verily she hath; and when I would not, hath afflicted me with sore pains in all my bones, so I cried out, on getting up, when I had set awhile. _Hathorne._ Hath your mistress a familiar? _Nancy._ Hey? _Hathorne._ Have you ever seen any strange thing with her? _Nancy._ She hath a yellow bird which sits on her cap when she churns. _Hathorne._ What else have you seen with her? _Nancy._ A thing like a cat, only it went on two legs. It clawed up the chimbly, and the soot fell down, and Goody Corey set me to sweeping on't up on the Lord's day. _Giles._ Out upon ye, ye lying old jade! _Hathorne._ Silence! Nancy, you may go to your place. Phoebe Morse, come hither. [Phoebe Morse _approaches with her apron over her face, sobbing. She has her doll under her arm._ _Hathorne._ Cease weeping, child. Tell me how your aunt Corey treats you. Hath she ever taught you otherwise than you have learned in your catechism? _Phoebe_ (_weeping_). I don't know. Oh, Aunt Corey, I didn't mean to! I took the pins out of my doll, I did. Don't whip me for it. _Hathorne._ What doll? What mean you, child? _Phoebe._ I don't know. I didn't stick them in so very deep, Aunt Corey! Don't let them hang me for it! _Hathorne._ Did your aunt Corey teach you to stick pins into your doll to torment folk? _Phoebe_ (_sobbing convulsively_). I don't know! I don't know! Oh, Aunt Corey, don't let them hang me! Olive, you won't let them! Oh! oh! _Corwin._ Methinks 'twere as well to make an end of this. _Hathorne._ There seemeth to me important substance under this froth of tears. (_To_ Phoebe.) Give me thy doll, child. _Phoebe_ (_clutching the doll_). Oh, my doll! my doll! Oh, Aunt Corey, don't let them have my doll! _Martha._ Peace, dear child! Thou must not begrudge it. Their worships be in sore distress just now to play with dolls. _Parris._ Give his worship the doll, child. Hast thou not been taught to respect them in authority? [Phoebe _gives the doll to_ Hathorne, _whimpering._ Hathorne, Corwin, _and_ Parris _put their heads together over it._ _Hathorne_ (_holding up the doll_). There be verily many pins in this image. Goodwife Corey, what know you of this? _Martha._ Your worship, such a weighty matter is beyond my poor knowledge. _Hathorne._ Know you whence the child got this image? _Martha._ Yes, your worship. I myself made it out of a piece of an old homespun blanket for the child to play with. I stuffed it with lamb's wool, and sewed some green ravellings on its head for hair. I made it a coat out of my copperas-colored petticoat, and colored its lips and cheeks with pokeberries. _Hathorne._ Did you teach the child to stick in these pins wherewith to torment folk?