seen
my poor child writhe under it, and I myself, when I would try it on,
bent down to my knees as under a ton weight, your worships would not
think it like any cape.

_Parris._ I suspect there be verily evil work in the cape, and a
witch's bodkin hath pierced these cunning eyelets. It goeth so fast
now that erelong every guileless, senseless thing in our houses,
down to the tinder-box and the candle-stick, will find hinges and
turn into a gate, whereby witchcraft can enter. You say, Widow
Hutchins, that Olive Corey gave this cape to your daughter?

_Hutchins._ That did she. Yesterday evening Ann went down to Goody
Corey's house for a little chat; she and Olive have been gossips
ever since they were children, though lately there hath been
somewhat of bitterness betwixt them.

_Parris._ How mean you?

_Hutchins._ I have laid it upon my mind ere now to tell you, being
much wrought up concerning it, and thinking that you might give me
somewhat of spiritual consolation and advice. It was in this wise.
Paul Bayley, who, they say, goeth every Sabbath night to Goody
Corey's house and sitteth up until unseemly hours with Olive, looked
once with a favorable eye upon my daughter Ann. Had your worships
seen him, as I saw him one day in the meeting-house, look at Ann
when she wore her green paduasoy, you had not doubted. Youths look
not thus upon maidens unless they be inclined toward them. But this
hussy Olive Corey did come between Paul and my Ann, and that not of
her own merits. There is nobody in Salem Village who would say that
Olive Corey's looks be aught in comparison with my Ann's, but I trow
Goody Corey hath arts which make amends for lack of beauty. I trow
all ill-favored folk might be fair would they have such arts used
upon them.

_Hathorne._ What mean you by that saying?

_Hutchins._ I mean Goody Corey hath devilish arts whereby she
giveth her daughter a beauty beyond her own looks, wherewith she may
entice young men.

_Hathorne._ You say that this cape caused your daughter torment?

_Hutchins._ Your worships, it lay on her neck like a fire-brand,
and she thought she should die ere she cast it off.

_Hathorne._ Widow Hutchins, will you now put on the cape?

_Hutchins._ Oh, your worship, I dare not put it on! I fear it will
be the death of me if I do.

_Hathorne._ Minister Parris, wilt thou put on the cape?

_Parris._ Good Master Hathorne, it would ill behoove a minister of
the gospel to put