"It will do very well for your father to talk," returned Siller, who was growing more and more excited. "Of course Goody Knowles wouldn't bewitch any of _his_ creeturs; it's only her enemies she injures. And that makes me think, children, that it's kind of curious for us to be sitting here talking about her. She _may_ be up on the ridge-pole of the house,--she or one of her imps,--a hearing every word we say." "O, dear! O, dear!" cried Patty, curling her head under Siller's cape. "Nonsense, child. I was only in fun," said the thoughtless Siller, beginning to feel ashamed of herself, for she had not intended to talk in this way to the children; "don't lets think any more about it." And with that she hurried the little girls off to bed; but by this time their eyes were pretty wide open, as you may suppose. CHAPTER VI. A WITCH-FRIGHT. Patty had forgotten all about her deep mortification, and never even thought of Deacon Turner, the tithing-man. "Hark!" whispered she to Mary, "don't you hear 'em walking on the roof of the house?" "Hear what?" said Mary, sternly. "Those things Siller calls creeturs--on broomsticks," returned Patty. "Nonsense; go to sleep, child." Mary was too well instructed to be really afraid of witches; still she lay awake an hour or two thinking over what Siller had said, and hearing her cough drearily in the next chamber. Little Patty was sleeping sweetly, but Mary's nerves were quivering, she did not know why, and "All things were full of horror and affright, And dreadful even the silence of the night." As she lay wishing herself safe at home in her own bed, there was a sudden noise outside her window,--the sound of heavy footsteps. Who could be walking there at that time of night? If it was a man, he must want to steal. Mary did not for a moment fancy it might be a woman, or a "creetur" on a broomstick,--she was too sensible for that; but you will not wonder that, as she heard the footsteps come nearer and nearer, her heart almost stopped beating from fright. Siller had not coughed for some time, and was very likely asleep. If so, there was no time to be lost. Mary sprang out of bed, and ran down stairs, whispering, "Fire! Murder! Thieves!" That wakened Patty, who ran after her, clutching at her night-dress, and crying out, "A fief! A fief!" For she had lost a front tooth the day before, and could not say "thief." It was a wonder they both did not fall headlong, going at such speed. Siller was in the kitchen, standing in the middle of the floor, with a red cloak on, staring straight before her, with a white, scared look. "Hush, children, for mercy's sake!" she whispered, putting her handkerchief over Patty's mouth, "we're in a terrible fix! It's either thieves or murderers, or else it's witches. Yes, Polly Lyman, witches!" "I don't hear the steps now," said Mary. "O, yes I do, too; yes I do, too." By that time there was a loud knocking.