There were a great number of people in Massachusetts in 1692 who believed in witches, and quite as many in Salem as in any other town. Usually there was some old enmity under each charge of witchcraft, though not always, for in some cases people made their charges recklessly, apparently enjoying the prominence it brought them, and thinking little of their victims. In those cases where there was some old score being paid off, however, the populace usually gave little attention to that side of it, but were only interested in the facts brought out to prove that the accused person was a dealer in the Evil Arts. As Mr. Glover said, "Call a person a witch, and you were two-thirds of the way to actually proving that he or she was a witch." There was school next day, as usual, and Thomas Appleton tried to appear unconcerned about everything but his scholars' lessons. The three afflicted children, the two girls and the boy, were not there, having been kept at home by their parents; and the others, who had all heard the story about the schoolmaster by now, could see that he had something on his mind. When school was over Mat and Joe waited until Mr. Appleton was ready to go, and then joined him on his walk home. At first they talked about all sorts of things, but presently Mat said, "We wanted you to know that we're friends of yours, no matter what people may say about you." The schoolmaster smiled, and put his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder. "You've heard then that people are saying that Mistress Swan is a witch, and that I'm another?" Both boys nodded. "It's the most absurd story in the world," the man went on. "Mistress Swan is kindness itself to every one, and especially to children. When she hears of any boy or girl who's ill she takes them jellies and puddings. I know a thousand things she's done that shows how much she loves them." "And we know how you care for dogs and cats and birds," put in Joe. "And every one in school, except those three, would follow you anywhere." Just then two women, coming along the lane, saw the schoolmaster, and deliberately crossed to the other side so as to avoid meeting him. Thomas Appleton reddened, and looked hurt. Then he snapped his fingers, and muttered, "I'd like to play on my pipe, like that Pied Piper of Hamelin Town we hear of, and dance away, taking all the children and animals after me. It would serve you right, you evil-minded folk of Salem!" Presently they came to Mistress Swan's door. "Might we see the shed where you keep your dogs?" asked Mat. "Certainly," said the schoolmaster, and he led them to the little building back of the house. Inside were half-a-dozen dogs, and those who could leaped up about Appleton, licked his hands, and showed their devotion to him. "These two," said he, pointing to a couple of collies, "need exercise. Would you boys like to go for a walk with the three of us?"