Free Crane Pond by Richard Francis Page B

in an open boat sends shivers down his spine.
    Mr. Willard is tall with a dark complexion and a brooding countenance. He is learned (though no rival to the Mathers) and a fine minister to the South Church, though prone to hot temper. He and Sewall have fierce arguments from time to time. He’s surprised and disappointed at Sewall’s leniency. ‘If we don’t discipline them, they’re liable to follow the path of those Salem girls. It’s a dangerous time for children.’
    â€˜Ah yes,’ says Sewall. ‘Mr. Mather told me about that pair.’
    â€˜There are four of them now.’
    Double the number already, as if the affliction is breeding. Mr. Willard explains that a girl called Ann Putnam, eleven or twelve years old, and an older one, Betty Hubbard, are showing the same symptoms as the first two.
    But now all four have started to attribute blame. They say they’re being persecuted by the spectres of three women in their village.
    â€˜I can’t see,’ says Sewall, ‘how a night-time fishing spree is going to expose our boys to an approach from the Devil. Or from his accomplices.’
    Mr. Willard has not been long gone when Sewall’s brother Stephen comes to call. He’s smaller than Sewall, thickset, with an honest ruddy face and long hair (all his own). His legs are somewhat bandy but far from detracting from his appearance the effect is to give him a sturdy quality (at least in the opinion of his big brother), as if he would be hard to push over. He’s in Boston on some business, so of course the Sewalls insist he must stay the night. Sewall tells him about Sam’s adventure, which greatly amuses him. ‘I’m glad you don’t take it too seriously,’ Sewall says. ‘Mr. Willard was very glum. He thought it might lead to a case of the sort of possession that’s broken out near you.’
    â€˜Well, we know how Mr. Willard can be prone to glumness. I’m so happy you didn’t become a minister, Sam, despite all your education. The problem with being a minister is you don’t just have your own sins to worry about but everyone else’s too. Mine are quite enough for me.’
    If Sewall talked in similar vein it would be flippant, but this way of putting things suits Stephen’s nature, as much him as the way he walks or screws up his eyes to look at you (perhaps into you).
    For Sewall himself, the question of whether to become a minister was a fraught one that took several years to resolve. It’s true, Harvard pushes you in that direction. Out of the eleven students in his year, seven are clergymen. But after his marriage he became interested in his father-in-law’s business affairs, and at last decided being a merchant was the right career for him too. And the other duties he soon began to take on, as a constable, militia captain, colony publisher, councillor, most of all as a justice, served to bridge the gulf between commerce and civic responsibility.
    â€˜Yes, there are strange goings on in that poor little namesake of ours,’ Stephen continues. ‘As you know it’s always been a horrible pit, but now it’s a horrible pit where people jump at their own shadows. Or each other’s shadows, I suppose I should say. Do you know we have little Betty Parris at our house?’
    Sewall is taken aback.
    â€˜Yes,’ says Stephen, ‘you may well look startled. You yourself are responsible, as a matter of fact.’
    â€˜But I’ve never even set eyes on her.’
    â€˜Ah, but Mr. Mather had a meeting with her father, the parson, who is the jumpiest of the lot. He’s terrified that people will think his daughter is in league with the Devil, and that he is too. Mr. Mather told him you and he had discussed the matter and that you seemed to believe the children must be innocent. He suggested the best way to establish this is to take the little girl away from the place for a while.