Abigail placed the pail of cookies on the table and seated herself to await Goodwife Higgins’ return. Soon the goodwife entered, bearing a big golden pumpkin from the storehouse. “I be glad to see ye, Abigail, if a sorrowful heart kens aught o’ gladness,” she said, putting down the pumpkin. “Ye look well and prosperous. I wonder if my little Deliverance has sufficient to eat and warm clothing o’ night. I have reared her tenderly, only to strike her a blow when most she needed me. I carry a false and heavy heart.” She sat down and, flinging her apron over her head, sobbed aloud. Abigail longed to tell the poor dame she had seen Deliverance, but dared not. After a little, the goodwife drew her apron from her head and wiped her eyes with a corner of it. “Hark ye, Abigail, the Lord has punished me, that I took it upon myself to be a judge o’ witches. Ye recall how I telled the reverend judges I had seen a yellow bird. I saw that bird again at rise o’ sun this morn.” Abigail shivered, although the fire was warm, and glanced around apprehensively. “It was the witch,” she cried, “what hanged her evil deeds on Deliverance.” “It was no witch,” cried the goodwife. “I would it had been a witch.” Abigail edged off her stool. “I must be going,” she said; “methinks I hear a witch scratching on the floor.” But her companion pushed her back. “Sit ye down. I have summat to tell ye. The hand o’ the Lord be in it, and laid in judgment on me. Betimes this morn, led o’ the Lord, I went to Deliverance’s room. There on the sill was the yellow bird. My heart was so full o’ sadness, there was no room for fear. ‘Gin ye be a witch, ye yellow bird,’ said I, ‘ye will have hanged a maid that knew not sin.’ At this the bird flew off and lighted in the red oak tree o’ the edge o’ the clearing. I put my Bible in my pocket and hurried out after it. As I neared the red oak, I shuddered, for I thought to find the bird changed into an hag with viper eyes. But naught was to be seen. I looked up into the branches. I cried, ‘Ye shall not escape me, ye limb o’ Satan,’ and with that I clomb the tree. It was a triumph o’ the flesh at my years, and proof that the Lord was holpen me. As I stood on the lower branches, I spied a nest and four eggs. I heard a peep, and saw the mother-bird had fluttered off a little way. At her call came the yellow bird, her mate, and flew in my face. Then I was minded these very birds nested there last spring. I suspicioned all. My little Deliverance had scattered crumbs on the window-ledge for the birds.” “Did ye look for to see?” asked Abigail. The goodwife nodded sadly. “Ay, I found many in the cracks. I be going to see the magistrate and confess my grievous mistake. Bide ye here, Abigail, whilst I be gone, as Master Wentworth has gone herb-gathering. I will stop by and leave the cream cheeses at your mother’s.”