“Go to prayer, sweetheart,” shouted Joseph. “Go to prayer. Be not afraid. ’Twill drive them away. Away with ye, Goody Bradbury! Away, Goody Proctor! Go to prayer, go to prayer!” Joseph bent low in the saddle and lashed the horse, which sprang forward with a mighty bound; the green branches rushed in their faces. Joseph prayed in a loud voice. Ann clung to him convulsively, panting for breath. Suddenly they came out of the woods into a cleared space. “The Proctor house! the Proctor house!” Ann shrieked. “Mercy Lewis said ’twas full of devils. What shall we do?” She hid her face on her husband’s shoulder, sobbing and praying. The Proctor house stood at the left of the road; there were some peach-trees in front of it, and their blossoms showed in a pink spray against the gray unpainted walls. On one side of the house was the great barn, with its doors wide open; on the other, a deep ploughed field, with the plough sticking in a furrow. John Proctor had been arrested and thrown into jail for witchcraft in April, before his spring planting was done. Joseph Bayley reined in his horse opposite the Proctor house. “Ann,” he whispered, and his whisper was full of horror. “What is it?” she returned, wildly. “Ann, Goodman Proctor looks forth from the chamber window, and Goody Proctor stands outside by the well, and they are both in jail in Boston.” Joseph’s whole frame shook in a strange rigid fashion, as if his joints were locked. “Look, Ann!” he whispered. “I cannot.” “Look!” Ann turned her head. “Why,” she said, and her voice was quite natural and sweet, it had even a tone of glad relief in it, “I see naught but a little maid in the door.” “See you not Goodman Proctor in the window?” “Nay,” said Ann, smiling; “I see naught but the little maid in the door. She is in a blue petticoat, and she has a yellow head, but her little cheeks are pale, I trow.” “See you not Goodwife Proctor in the yard by the well?” asked Joseph. “Nay, goodman; I see naught but the little maid in the door. She has a fair face, but now she falls a-weeping. Oh, I fear lest she be all alone in the house.” “I tell you, Goodman Proctor and Goodwife Proctor are both there,” returned Joseph. “Think you I see not with my own eyes? Goodman Proctor has on a red cap, and Goodwife Proctor holds a spindle.” He urged on the horse with a sudden cry. “Now the prayers do stick in my throat,” he groaned. “I would we were out of this devil’s nest!” “Oh, Joseph,” implored Ann, “prithee wait a minute! The little maid is calling ‘mother’ after me. Saw you not how she favored our little Susanna who died? Hear her! There was naught there but the little maid. Joseph, I pray you, stop.” “Nay; I’ll ride till the nag drops,” said Joseph Bayley, with a lash. “This last be too much. I tell ye they are there, and they are also in jail. ’Tis hellish work.”