Altogether she was very glad when Dame Grundle rang the bell for dismissal, and she could put on the children’s things and conduct them home. It was a pleasant walk to town through the woods. Deliverance, at the head of her little procession, always entered the village at an angle to pass the meeting-house where all important news was given forth and public gatherings held. The great front door faced the highway and was the town bulletin board. Sometimes a constable was stationed near by to read the message aloud to the unlettered. A chilling wind swept down the road this morning as Deliverance and her following drew near. Inside the meeting-house the great witch-trial was still in session. A large crowd, which could not be accommodated inside, thronged the steps and peered in through the windows. The sun which had risen so brightly, had disappeared. The gray sky, the raw air, hung gloomily over the scene, wherein the sad-coloured garments of the gentlefolk made a background for the bright bodices of the goodwives, and the red, green, and blue doublets of the yeomen. Soldiers mingled with the throng. So much noise had disturbed the court that the great door had been ordered closed. On the upper panels wolves’ heads (nailed by hunters in proof of their success that they might receive the bounty), with grinning fangs and blood trickling to the steps, looked down upon the people. The children with Deliverance grew frightened and clutched at her dress, trying to drag her away, but she, eager to hear whatever news there was, silenced them peremptorily. Suddenly she heard a strange sound. Glancing down she beheld one of her scholars, crawling on his hands and knees, mewing like a cat. Another child imitated this curious action, and yet another. A fourth child screamed and fell in convulsions. In a few moments the panic had spread to them all. The children were mad with terror. One little girl began barking like a dog, still another crowed like a cock, flapping her arms as though they were wings. The crowd, disturbed by the shrill cries, turned its attention and pressed around the scene of fresh excitement. Faces of hearty women and stout men blanched. “Even the babes be not spared,” they cried; “see, they be bewitched.” Goodwife Gibbs broke from the rest, and lifted up her little son who lay in convulsions on the dusty road. “The curse o’ God be on the witch who has done this,” she cried wildly; “let her be revealed that she may be punished.” The child writhed, then grew quiet; a faint colour came back into his face. His eyelids quivered and unclosed. Deliverance called him by name, bending over him as he lay in his mother’s arms. As she did so he struck her in the face, a world of terror in his eyes, screaming that she was the witch and had stuck pins in him. “Dear Lord,” cried the little maid, aghast, raising her eyes to heaven, “ye ken I but rapped his pate for sniffling and larfing in class.”