tory to going home. Suddenly the girl gave
utterance to a wild shriek and leaped into the house, holding her wrist
in her left hand.

"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Lawson.

"I am bitten on the wrist," she cried.

"Surely you cannot be bitten, for I have seen nothing to bite you."

"Nevertheless, I am bitten. It is a witch that hath bitten me."

The candle had been burning all the while in the apartment, and Mr.
Lawson knew that no one could have been in the room without his
knowledge.

"Some one hath grievously bitten me!" the girl sobbed.

Mr. Lawson seized the candle and, holding it to her wrist, saw
apparently the marks of teeth, both upper and lower set, on each side of
her wrist. He was lost in wonder and, placing the candle on the mantel,
remarked:

"It is a mystery."

"Yea, verily it is," Lieutenant Ingersol answered; "but you have not
seen the beginning of the wonders of witchcraft in this village. Satan
surely hath been loosed for a little season."

"I have heard much of the sore afflictions of the children at the home
of Mr. Parris," remarked Mr. Lawson.

"And they are sorely afflicted, as I can bear testimony. After tea we
will walk over to his house."

Mr. Lawson assented, and Mary Walcut was sent home. After an early tea,
Mr. Lawson went to the parsonage, which was but a short distance. Mr.
Parris met them at the door. His white, cadaverous face, prominent cheek
bones, aquiline nose, piercing eyes, and wild, disheveled hair giving
him a strange, weird appearance. He greeted Reverend Mr. Lawson warmly
and thanked him for coming all the way from Boston to preach for him
next Lord's Day.

"I am so sorely tried with my many afflictions, that I cannot compose my
mind for sermonizing."

"I have heard somewhat of the afflictions and troubles that beset you,"
Rev. Deodat Lawson answered.

"Verily you cannot have heard more than has occurred. I am maligned,
misunderstood and beset everywhere by the enemies of God."

"Meet it with prayer and humiliation," answered Mr. Lawson.

"I do--I do--and, verily, the Lord is making my enemies my footstool.
Many are already in prison, and many more will yet go to the gallows."
The pastor gnashed his teeth in silent rage, while his eyes gleamed with
hate.

"How are the afflicted children?" asked Mr. Lawson.

"No better. Abigail come hither."

Abigail Williams, the niece of the pastor, came from an adjoining room.
She was a girl of twelve, with a fair