_Martha_ (_laughing_). That I would not, goodman. I would have said that the maids should be sent home and soundly trounced, then put to bed, with a quart bowl of sage tea apiece. _Giles._ Talk so if you will. One of these days folk will say you be a witch yourself. You were ever hard-skulled, and could knock your head long against a truth without being pricked by it. Hold out if you can, when only this morning the ox and the cat were took so strangely here in our own household. _Martha._ Shame on you, goodman! The ox and the cat themselves would laugh at you. The cat ate a rat, and it did not set well on her stomach, and the ox slipped in the mire in the yard. _Nancy._ 'Twas more than that. I know, I know. _Giles._ Laugh if you will, wife. Mayhap you know more about it than other folk. You never could abide the cat. I am going to bed, if I can first go to prayer. Last night the words went from me strangely! But you will laugh at that. [_Lights a candle. Exit._ _Phoebe._ Aunt Corey, may I eat an apple? _Martha._ Not to-night. 'Twill give you the nightmare. _Phoebe._ No, 'twill not. _Martha._ Be still! _There is a knock._ Olive _opens the door. Enter_ Paul Bayley. Ann _starts up._ _Paul._ Good-evening, goodwife. Good-evening, Olive. Good-evening, Ann. 'Tis a fine night out. _Ann._ I must be going; 'tis late. _Olive._ Nay, Ann, 'tis not late. Wait, and Paul will go home with you through the wood. _Ann._ I must be going. _Paul_ (_hesitatingly_). Then let me go with you, Mistress Ann! I can well do my errand here later. _Ann._ Nay, I can wait whilst you do the errand, if you are speedy. I fear lest the delay would make you ill at ease. _Martha_ (_quickly_). There is no need, Paul. I will go with Ann. I want to borrow a hood pattern of Goodwife Nourse on the way. _Paul._ But will you not be afraid, goodwife? _Martha._ Afraid, and the moon at a good half, and only a short way to go? _Paul._ But you have to go through the wood. _Martha._ The wood! A stretch as long as this room--six ash-trees, one butternut, and a birch sapling thrown in for a witch spectre. Say no more, Paul. Sit you down and keep Olive company. I will go, if only for the sake of showing these silly little hussies that there is no call for a gospel woman with prayer in her heart to be afraid of anything but the wrath of God. [_Puts a blanket over her head._ _Ann._ I want no company at all, Goodwife Corey. _Phoebe._ Aunt Corey, let me go, too; my stint is done. _Martha._ Nay, you must to bed, and Nancy too. Off with ye, and no words. _Nancy._ I'm none so old that I must needs be sent to bed like a babe, I'd have you know that, Goody Corey. [_Sets away apple pan; exit, with_ Phoebe _following sulkily._ _Martha._ Come, Ann. _Ann._ I want no company. I have more fear with company than I have alone. _Martha._ Along with you, child.