Giles Corey, Yeoman | Page 4

if only for the sake of showing these silly little hussies that there is no call for a gospel woman with prayer in her heart to be afraid of anything but the wrath of God. [_Puts a blanket over her head._
Ann. I want no company at all, Goodwife Corey.
Phoebe. Aunt Corey, let me go, too; my stint is done.
Martha. Nay, you must to bed, and Nancy too. Off with ye, and no words.
Nancy. I'm none so old that I must needs be sent to bed like a babe, I'd have you know that, Goody Corey. [_Sets away apple pan; exit, with Phoebe following sulkily._
Martha. Come, Ann.
Ann. I want no company. I have more fear with company than I have alone.
Martha. Along with you, child.
Olive. Oh, Ann, you are forgetting your cape. Here, mother, you carry it for her. Good-night, sweetheart.
Ann. I want no company, Goodwife Corey. [Martha _takes her laughingly by the arm and leads her out._
Paul. It is a fine night out.
Olive. So I have heard.
Paul. You make a jest of me, Mistress Olive. Know you not when a man is of a sudden left alone with a fair maid, he needs to try his speech like a player his fiddle, to see if it be in good tune for her ears; and what better way than to sound over and over again the praise of the fine weather? What ailed Ann that she seemed so strangely, Olive?
Olive. I know not. I think she had been overwrought by coming alone through the woods.
Paul. She seemed ill at ease. Why spin you so steadily, Olive?
Olive. I must finish my stint.
Paul. Who set you a stint as if you were a child?
Olive. Mine own conscience, to which I will ever be a child.
Paul. Cease spinning, sweetheart.
Olive. Nay.
Paul. Come over here on the settle, there is something I would tell thee.
Olive. Tell it, then. I can hear a distance of three feet or so.
Paul. I know thou canst, but come.
Olive. Nay, I will not. This is no courting night. I cannot idle every night in the week.
Paul. Thou wouldst make a new commandment. A maid shall spin flax every night in the week save the Sabbath, when she shall lay aside her work and be courted. There be young men here in Salem Village, though you may credit it not, Olive, who visit their maids twice every week, and have the fire in the fore room kindled.
Olive. My mother thinks it not well that I should sit up oftener than once a week, nor do I; but be not vexed by it, Paul.
Paul. I love thee better for it, sweetheart.
Olive. My stint is done.
Paul. Then come. (She obeys.) Now for the news. This morning I bought of Goodman Nourse his nine-acre lot for a homestead. What thinkest thou of that?
Olive. It is a pleasant spot.
Paul. 'Tis not far from here, and thou wilt be near thy mother.
Olive. Was it not too costly?
Paul. I had saved enough to pay for it, and in another year's time, and I have the help of God in it, I shall have saved enough for our house. What thinkest thou of a gambrel-roof and a lean-to, two square front rooms, both fire-rooms, and a living-room? And peonies and hollyhocks in the front yard, and two popple-trees, one on each side of the gate?
Olive. We shall need not a lean-to, Paul, and one fire-room will serve us well; but I will have laylocks and red and white roses as well as peonies and hollyhocks in the front yard, and some mint under the windows to make the house smell sweet; and I like well the popple-trees at the gate.
Paul. The house shall be built of fairly seasoned yellow pine wood, with a summer tree in every room, and fine panel-work in the doors and around the chimbleys.
Olive. Nay, Paul, not too fine panel-work; 'twill cost too high.
Paul. Cupboards in every room, and fine-laid white floors.
Olive. We need a cupboard in the living-room only, but I have learned to sand a floor in a rare pattern. [Paul _attempts to embrace Olive. She repulses him._
Paul. I trow you are full provident of favors and pence, Olive.
Olive. I would save them for thee, Paul.
Paul. And thou shalt not be hindered by me to any harm, sweetheart. Was't thy mother taught thee such wisdom, or thine own self, Olive?
Olive. 'Twas my mother.
Paul. Nay, 'twas thine own heart; that shall teach me, too. [Nine-o'clock bell rings.
Olive. Oh, 'tis nine o'clock, and 'tis not a courting night. Paul, be off; thou must! [They jump up and go to the door.
Paul (putting his arm around Olive). Give me but one kiss, Olive, albeit not a courting night, for good speed on my homeward walk and my to-morrow's journey.
Olive. Where go you to-morrow, Paul?
Paul. To Boston,