At last she was persuaded so far as to let me say I might call for her the next Sunday on my way to church. "It was as like as not she would not go, but at any rate it would do her no harm to see me." And as I left I heard something like a blessing follow me, and I saw the poor, bent old figure leaning out of the door and watching me. But when I came back to Netherby I found the whole village at the doors in a ferment of eager talk. I thought at once of Sir Launcelot and the troopers, and asked if there had been another battle. "Nay, nay," said the woman I spoke to, "it's naught but folks going to reap their deserts at last." Then came a chorus of grievances. "Three of Farmer White's finest milch kine gone in one night!" "Goodwife Joyce's best black hen killed, and not a feather touched; no mortal fox's work it was too plain to see!" "The dogs yelling as if they were possessed, as belike they were, on Saturday evening, seeing no doubt more than they could tell, poor beasts, of what was going on in the air!" "Lord Essex and his army lying spellbound, able to do nothing, while the Prince Robber was plundering the land far and wide!" "Job and Master Roger, the best in the village, the first stricken; too clear where the blows came from!" "And to-day the squire's own cattle driven off the meadow, with Mistress Nicholl's, by a troop of plunderers, who came no one knew whence, and had gone no one knew whither!" "And finally, Tony Tomkin had been pursued by a headless hound through the Davenant woods, where he had only gone to take a rabbit or two he had snared, and thought no harm, the family being away and fighting against the country!" "And," but this was muttered under the breath, "there were those who said they had seen something that was not smoke come out of Gammer Grindle's chimney--something that flew away over the fens faster than any bird. And this was only on last Saturday night, and every one knew that Saturday was the day of the witches' Sabbath ever since the Jews had brought the innocent blood on their heads!" Then suddenly it flashed on me what it all meant. They were going to execute some dreadful vengeance on Gammer Grindle, believing her to be one of the witches who were causing all the mischief in the land. It was no use to set myself against the torrent of fear and rage, so I said as quietly as I could,-- "What are they going to do, and when?" "First," was the reply, "they're going to duck her in the Mere before her own door. If she sinks they will pull her out if they can, as it mayn't be her doings after all. If she swims she's a witch, clear and plain." "And what then?" I said. "Nothing too bad, Mistress Olive, for the like of them. But the lads'll see when it comes to the point. It isn't often their master helps the wretches out at last, they say. And if she don't sink natural, as a Christian ought, belike the lads'll make her." "When did they go to do this?" I asked.