"Feel nowt?" rejoined Nance, between her ground teeth. "May ye ha a pang os sharp i' your cancart eart, ye villain." After this barbarous test, the crowd, confirmed by it in their notions of Nan's guiltiness, hurried on, their numbers increasing as they proceeded along the main street of the village leading towards the river; all the villagers left at home rushing forth on hearing a witch was about to be swum, and when they came within a bow-shot of the stream, Sparshot called to Baggiley to lay hold of Nance, while he himself, accompanied by several of the crowd, ran over the bridge, the part he had to enact requiring him to be on the other side of the water. Meantime, the main party turned down a little footpath protected by a gate on the left, which led between garden hedges to the grassy banks of the Calder, and in taking this course they passed by the cottage of Elizabeth Device. Hearing the shouts of the rabble, little Jennet, who had been in no very happy frame of mind since she had been brought home, came forth, and seeing her brother, called out to him, in her usual sharp tones, "What's the matter, Jem? Who han ye gotten there?" "A witch," replied Jem, gruffly. "Nance Redferne, Mother Chattox's grand-daughter. Come an see her swum i' th' Calder." Jennet readily complied, for her curiosity was aroused, and she shared in the family feelings of dislike to Mother Chattox and her descendants. "Is this Nance Redferne?" she cried, keeping close to her brother, "Ey'm glad yo'n caught her at last. How dun ye find yersel, Nance?" "Ill at ease, Jennet," replied Nance, with a bitter look; "boh it ill becomes ye to jeer me, lass, seein' yo're a born witch yoursel." "Aha!" cried Potts, looking at the little girl, "So this is a born witch--eh, Nance?" "A born an' bred witch," rejoined Nance; "jist as her brother Jem here is a wizard. They're the gran-childer o' Mother Demdike o' Pendle, the greatest witch i' these parts, an childer o' Bess Device, who's nah much better. Ask me to witness agen 'em, that's aw." "Howd thy tongue, woman, or ey'n drown thee," muttered Jem, in a tone of deep menace. "Ye canna, mon, if ey'm the witch ye ca' me," rejoined Nance. "Jennet's turn'll come os weel os mine, one o' these days. Mark my words." "Efore that ey shan see ye burned, ye faggot," cried Jennet, almost fiercely. "Ye'n gotten the fiend's mark o' your sleeve," cried Nance. "Ey see it written i' letters ov blood." "That's where our cat scratted me," replied Jennet, hiding her arm quickly. "Good!--very good!" observed Potts, rubbing his hands. "'Who but witches can be proof against witches?' saith our sagacious sovereign. I shall make something of this girl. She seems a remarkably quick child--remarkably quick--ha, ha!"