They went together into the house, full of vague dread. Tituba followed the young girl up-stairs, and forcing her to lie down, coiled herself up at the foot of the bed, and lay with her bright, black eyes wide open, till the morning broke. Then she arose softly, and going down to the kitchen, began to prepare breakfast. Wahpee had not yet returned from the woods, and there was no one to provide for but the young girl up-stairs; but the old woman mixed her corn bread, stamped the pats of golden butter, and set her rye coffee down to boil in its conical tin pot, with as much bustle of preparation as if the whole family were to partake of the meal she was preparing. When all was ready, when the round, cherry-wood table was turned down from its place in a corner of the sitting-room, and drawn up to the window, through which the sweet summer air came rippling among the wild roses and bitter-sweet vines, Tituba went up to the room where Abby was sleeping. It was a singular face upon which the old woman gazed. The masses of raven hair, the long, inky lashes, and the mouth, so beautifully red, possessed a rare loveliness, which the agitation of other features could not altogether destroy. But the forehead was contracted with a frown, the lips writhed with a troubled expression, and her billowy hair rippled to and fro on the pillow from the constant change of position, sought for in her restless sleep. "Abby--Abby!" whispered the old woman, "come, wake up; it is most seven o'clock, and the breakfast all ready." Abby turned on the pillow, and her forehead gathered into a heavy frown. "Do not call me, mother. Why will you wander on--on--on forever and ever, so restlessly, as if your child would not keep her oath? Wait a little, while I look on your face. The wave of your white garments troubles me. The starlight is dim. I cannot hold you in my look, or grasp you with my hand--oh--" She opened her eyes with a groan, and sat up in bed. The gentle shake which Tituba had given her seemed to wrench the garments, she had seized upon in her dreams, rudely from her grasp. "Breakfast is ready, child." "Breakfast!" "Yes, child, breakfast; warm Johnny cake, and a nice little bit of ham. Don't think any more about it. If the Great Spirit sends witches, he knows how to keep 'em under." "I will come down," said Abby, wearily, holding one hand to her forehead. "That's a good child--and do try and look a little like old times. What if the minister and our Lizzy should come back to-day?--who knows?" "Heaven forbid!" cried the young girl, in pale affright. "I am not ready yet. How can I tell what the woman wants till she speaks to me? If Anna Hutchinson must be avenged, explain how the evil thing is to be done. Dear Tituba, tell me truly. You don't expect the minister home to-day?" "Why, how can I tell for certain? He ought to have been home weeks ago." "Am I changed, Tituba? Hold up the looking-glass, and let me see for myself."