“Ye look no reconciled to God, Deliverance,” protested Abigail, meekly, wiping her eyes on the edge of her linsey-woolsey petticoat. “Now hark ye, Abigail,” said Deliverance, “and I will tell ye an o’er-strange tale. But ye must swear to me that ye will breathe no word o’ it. I be on a service for his Majesty, the King, the likes ye wot not of. And now no more of this lest I betray a secret I be bound in all loyalty to keep. But in proof o’ my words, that it be no idle tale, ye can go to-morrow morning to the old oak tree with the secret hollow, and run your arm into the hole and feel around until you touch summat hard and small, wrapped in a bit o’ silk. Ye will see the package contains a string o’ gold beads which ye can look at and try on; for it is great consolation to feel ye have on good gold beads. Watch out, meantime, that no witch spy ye. Then wrap them up, and put them back, and run fast away so ye be no tempted to fall into the sin o’ envy by lingering, for ye be o’er much given to hankering for worldly things, Abigail.” “I ken, I ken,” cried Abigail, breaking into sobs, “that I be no so spiritual minded as I ought to be. But, oh, Deliverance, my unchastened heart be all so full o’ woe and care to think o’ ye in prison, that I cannot sleep o’ nights for weeping, and I continually read the Scriptures comforting against death. But I can find no comfort for thinking on the good times we have had together, and so I fear I be a great reproach unto God.” “Hush, hush!” cried Deliverance, “I hear some one coming.” There was a moment of fearful listening. Then the approaching footsteps passed the door and went on down the corridor. “Now, I have thought out a plan which be summat like this,” continued Deliverance. “Ye must take a letter to Boston Town for me. If ye start early and don’t dawdle by the way, ye will reach there by set o’ sun. Still, if ye should not arrive until dusk, ye could ask the night watchman the way. And I should advise ye to put on no airs as being acquaint with the town, but to inquire humbly o’ him the way to Harvard College. I doubt not he will be pleased to tell ye civilly it be up the street a little ways, like as the boys’ school be here. So ye must walk on, and when ye have reached it, raise the knocker and rap, and go in. There ye will see one young man, much more learned and good to look at than his fellows, and he will be my dear and only brother, Ronald. After ye have asked the goodly schoolmaster permission, ye must go up and pluck hold o’ Ronald by his doublet sleeve, and draw him down to whisper in his ear o’ my sore plight. Now, I think ye will find all this to be just as I say, though I have ne’er been in Boston Town. Ronald will go with ye to search for the fine gentleman I met in the forest. Then, when he has found him, they will both come and take me out o’ jail. Bring me some paper and an ink-horn and quill, so I can write the letter to-morrow.”