As plaintiff and principal witness in the unpopular trial, their situation was not without danger. In fact, Mumchance had advised them to move into Lud till the storm had blown over. But, to Hazel, Lud was the place where the widow was buried, and, full as she was of western superstitions, she felt that she could not bear to sleep enclosed by the same town walls as the angry corpse. Nor would she return to the farm. Her aunt had told her of Master Nathaniel's half-joking plan to communicate with her, and Hazel insisted that even though he had gone behind the Debatable Hills it was their clear duty to remain within reach of a message. That evening Mistress Ivy was waxing a little plaintive over her obstinacy. "I sometimes think, Hazel, your wits have been turned, living so long with that bad bold woman ... and I don't wonder, I'm sure, poor child; and if my poor Peppercorn hadn't come along, I don't know what would have happened to me. But there's no sense, I tell you, in waiting on here--with the hams and bacon at home not cured yet, nor the fish salted for winter, nor your fruit pickled or preserved. You're a farmer on your own now, and you shouldn't forget it. And I wish to goodness you'd get all that silly nonsense out of your head. A message from the Mayor, indeed! Though I can't get over its being him that came to see me, and me never knowing, but giving him sauce, as if he'd been nothing but a shipmate of my poor Peppercorn's! No, no, poor gentleman, we'll never hear from him! Leastways, not this side of the Debatable Hills." Hazel said nothing. But her obstinate little chin looked even more obstinate than usual. Then suddenly she looked up with startled eyes. "Hark, auntie!" she cried. "Didn't you hear someone knocking?" "What a girl you are for fancying things! It's only the wind," said Mistress Ivy querulously. "Why, auntie, there it is again! No, no, I'm sure it's someone knocking. I'll just go and see," and she took a candle from the table; but her hand was trembling. The knocking was audible now to Mistress Ivy as well. "You just stay where you are, my girl!" she cried shrilly. "It'll be one of these rough chaps from the town, and I won't have you opening the door--no, I won't." But Hazel paid no attention, and, though her face was white and her eyes very scared, she marched boldly into the shop and called, "Who's there?" through the door. "By the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Golden Apples of the West!" came the answer. "Auntie! Auntie!" she cried shrilly, "it's from the Mayor. He has sent a messenger, and you must come." This brought Mistress Ivy hurrying to her side. Though she was not of an heroic character, she came of good sturdy stock, and she was not going to leave her dead brother's child to face the dangers of the unseen alone, but her teeth were chattering with terror. Evidently the messenger was growing impatient, for he began beating a tattoo on the door and singing in a shrill sweet voice: