best friend he's got. He likes to
keep on the right side of Squire Lyman, and he must have spoke out
before he thought."

Patty drew a long breath. She began to think the Deacon was the one to
blame, and she hadn't done any thing so very bad after all, and wouldn't
live in the barn more than a day or two, if she did as long as that.

She was glad she was not going home to-night to be seen by any of the
family, especially Rachel. By the time they reached Dr. Hilton's she was
quite calm, and when Siller asked her if she would like some pancakes
for breakfast, she danced, and said, "O, yes, ma'am," in her natural
voice.

But, as Siller said, they were all rather stirred up, and wouldn't be
in a hurry about going to bed. Perhaps the blackberry tea they had drunk
at supper time was too strong for Siller's nerves; at any rate, she felt
so wide awake that she chose to sit up knitting, with Patty in her lap,
and did not perceive that both the children were growing sleepy.

It was a lovely evening, and the bright moon sailing across the blue sky
set the simple woman to thinking,--not of the great and good God of whom
she had been hearing this evening, but, I am ashamed to say, of witches!

"I'm glad I've got company," said she, nodding to Mary, "for there's
kind of a creeping feeling goes over me such shiny nights as this. It's
just the time for Goody Knowles to be out on a broomstick."

"Why, Siller Noonin," exclaimed Mary, "_you_ don't believe in such
foolishness as that! I never knew you did before!"

Siller did not answer, for she suddenly remembered that Mrs. Lyman was
very particular as to what was said before her children.

"Tell me, Siller; you don't suppose witches go flying round when the
moon shines?" asked Mary, curling her lip.

"That's what folks say, child."

"Well, I do declare, Siller, I thought _you_ had more sense."

Mrs. Noonin's black eyes sparkled with anger.

"That's free kind of talk for a little girl that's some related to Sir
William Phips; that used to be Governor of this Commonwealth of
Massachusetts," said she.

"I never heard of Mr. Phips."

"Well, that's nothing strange. He died over a hundred years ago; but
_he_ didn't make fun of witches, I can tell you. He had 'em chained up
so they couldn't hurt folks."

"Hurt folks?" said little Patty.

"Yes; you know witches have a way of taking various shapes, such as cats
and dogs, and all sorts of creeturs, and going about doing mischief