Sarah sat by the fire impatiently tapping her foot, “Where is that girl,” she thought, “`tis no night to be out and about.” Feeling uncommonly cool for early June, she pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders.
Stirring the large kettle, she cast restless glances towards the door, her foot tapping more pronounced. Once hearing a noise; she rushed to the door, only to startle a nervous chipmunk. “Oh, you little devil!” She exclaimed loudly.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, she peered into the dark night trying to see any sign of her wayward sister. “Jemma, where could you be at this hour?” She wondered. “I feel an uneasiness that cannot be quelled.”
Returning to the fire’s warmth, she again picked up the ladle. Carefully giving the broth a taste, she reached for the herbs. Sprinkling liberally, she slowly resumed stirring.
Just as her last nerve threatened to unravel, she again heard a noise at the door. Thinking it only the vagabond chipmunk, she paid it no mind until she was startled at the door’s sudden opening. “Oh goodness!” She gasped, as her sister tumbled through the threshold. “Jemma, oh thank the heavens you are safe! I was afraid the creatures of the night may have you!”
Sarah was so overcome with relief, she had to sit back down before she fainted. Noticing her sister seemed distraught, with fresh tears on her face, she rose again and went to comfort her. “Why Jemma,” she asked, “what is the matter? Did a varmint cross your path?”
“Oh Sarah!” Jemma cried. “There is terrible mischief about in Salem township. I hurried here as fast as I could after dawdling to hear the news. Terrible mischief!”
“What Jemma? What could have scared you so?” Sarah tried to soothe Jemma with a touch, but was startled to see her sister draw away. “Jemma? Jemma dear, what is the matter?” Sarah asked.
“The two girls, Elizabeth Parris and that dreadful Abigail Williams have had more visions.” Jemma was overcome with sobs. “They have laid charges of witchcraft yet again! Those terrible little brats, God take their souls!”
“Oh no!” Sarah gasped. “Who this time? What poor unfortunates have been so accused?”
“Oh Sarah," Jemma was so overcome she could barely speak, “they accuse Rebecca Nurse, Susanah Martin, Sarah Wildes, Elizabeth Howe and... and...YOU!”
Sarah felt a cold grip on her heart and fell heavily seated into her chair unable to breathe.
“Me?” She whispered, “Me? Susanah Martin? Why, Susanah is the kindest girl I know! Rebeccah Nurse and Elizabeth Howe as well? What madness invades this township! Anyone with half the intelligence of a meadowlark would know `tis nothing but foolishness of two silly girls!”
“None the less,” Jemma said, “they are believed! There was a general alarm and the church elders are making arrests! Oh Sarah, they will be here in no time!”
At dawn there came a heavy knock at the door. “Sarah Goode!” A voice growled, from outside. “We have come for you.”