_Nancy._ Don't you fret yourself, Olive. I trow there's no witch-mark on you. It's Goody Bishop in her fine silk hood that's at the bottom on't. I know, I know. Perchance Paul could loose the stopple in the cider-barrel. I am needful of somewhat to warm my old bones. This witch-work makes them to creep with chills like long snakes. _Olive._ They say my mother will soon be hanged, and I perchance a witch, and the cause of it. I cannot get over it. (_Moves away from them._) If I be a witch, I shall hurt thee, as I perchance have hurt them. [_Weeps._ _Paul._ Olive Corey, what is that? _Olive_ (_looking up_). What? What mean you, Paul? [Nancy _and_ Phoebe _stare._ _Paul._ There, over the cupboard. Is it--Yes, 'tis--cobwebs. I trow I never saw such a sight in Goodwife Corey's house before. _Olive._ I will brush them down, Paul. _Paul_ (_looking at the floor_). And I doubt me much if the floor has been swept up this week past, and the hearth is all strewn with ashes. I trow Goodwife Corey would weep could she see her house thus. _Olive._ I will get the broom, Paul. _Paul._ I know well thou hast not spun this last week, that the cream is too far gone to be churned, and the cheeses have not been turned. _Nancy._ 'Tis so, Paul; and there's no sweet-cake in the house, either. _Paul._ Thou art no such housewife as thy mother, Olive Corey! One would say she had not taught thee. I trow she was a good housewife, and notable among the neighbors; but this will take from her reputation that she hath so brought thee up. I trow could she see this house 'twould give her a new ache in her heart among all the others. _Olive._ I will mind the house, Paul. _Paul._ Ay, mind the house, poor lass! Know you, Olive, that there is a rumor abroad in Salem that your father will refuse to plead, and will stand mute at his trial? _Olive._ Wherefore will he do that? _Paul._ I scarcely know why. Has he made a will, 'twill not be valid were he to plead at a criminal trial; there will be an attainder on it. They say that is one reason, and that he thinks thus to show his scorn of the whole devilish work, and of a trial that is no trial. _Olive._ What is the penalty if he stand mute? _Paul._ 'Tis a severe one; but he shall not stand mute. _Phoebe._ Oh, Paul, get Aunt Corey out of jail! Can't you get Aunt Corey out of jail? _Nancy._ Perchance you could pry up the hook of the jail door with the old knife. It will be dark to-night. There is no moon until three o'clock in the morning. _Olive._ Paul, think you not that my father's sons-in-law might do somewhat? They are men of influence. Their wives are but my half-sisters, but they are his own daughters. I marvel they have not come to me since this trouble. _Paul._ Olive, his sons-in-law have sent in their written testimony against him and your mother. _Olive._ Paul, it cannot be so! _Paul._ They have surely so testified. There is no help to be had from them. I have a plan.