"Tony Tomkin," I said, "Squire Drayton shall know of this, and it shall not be unpunished. It is your wickedness, and such as yours, that brings the trouble on us all, and not Gammer Grindle's. God is angry with you, Tony, for breaking your little brother's head, and idling away your time, while your poor mother toils her life away to get you bread. You will not give up your hearts to be good like brave men, which is the only sacrifice God will have; and instead, like a pack of cowards, you are sacrificing a poor helpless old woman to the devil. Isn't there one man here with the heart of a man in him? What harm can the devil do you, much less a witch, if you please God? And which of you thinks God will be pleased by a troop of you slinking here in the dark to murder a helpless old woman at her own door? Can none of you lads of Netherby remember poor Tim, and how he died for Master Roger, and how good she was to him? Or can't you trust Squire Drayton to do justice, and leave her to him?" Tony let his torch fall and slunk back. Then two Netherby men came forward and said,-- "She's right; Mistress Olive is right! Squire Drayton'll see justice done." Two or three others joined them. The cry arose, "No one shall touch the old woman to-night, as long as there's any Netherby lads to hinder it." A scuffle ensued, during which Aunt Gretel and I got hold of Gammer Grindle once more, and led her back into the cottage. Once there, we barricaded the door with the logs and fagots which formed Gammer's store of firewood, and felt safe. But it was not until the angry voices had quite died away in the distance, and we heard again the quiet plashing of the water among the rushes, that we could quiet the poor old woman so that she would let go her clasp of our hands. Then she let us kindle a fire, and wrap her in warm dry things. We wanted to lay her in a clean comfortable bed which was made in the corner of the hut. But this she would not suffer. "It is Cicely's," she said. "It's not for me." So we had to pack her up as comfortably as we could upon the heap of straw and rags laid on an old chest, which was her bed. There she lay quite still for a long time, while Aunt Gretel and I sat silent by the fire, hoping she would sleep. But in about an hour she said, in a quiet voice-- "Take away those logs from the door." I went to her bedside. "In the morning, Gammer," I said, "when it is quite safe." "This moment!" said she, starting up any trying to walk. But the terrors of the night had made her so faint and feeble, that she fell helplessly back. "This moment, Mistress Olive!" she repeated, in a faint querulous voice, very unlike her usual sharp firm tones--"this moment! The poor maid might come and try the door, and go away, and never come again. I've been sharp with her, I know, and she might be afraid, not knowing, poor lamb, how I watch for her." Aunt Gretel went to the door and began to unpile the logs.