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as I heard it, that she comes so rarely to the church this year for she will not sit so close to something soiled. What signified that remark?
    ABIGAIL: She hates me, uncle, she must, for I would not be her slave. It’s a bitter woman, a lying, cold, sniveling woman, and I will not work for such a woman!
    PARRIS: She may be. And yet it has troubled me that you are now seven month out of their house, and in all this time no other family has ever called for your service.
    ABIGAIL: They want slaves, not such as I. Let them send to Barbados for that. I will not black my face for any of them! With ill-concealed resentment at him: Do you begrudge my bed, uncle?
    PARRIS: No-no.
    ABIGAIL, in a temper: My name is good in the village! I will not have it said my name is soiled! Goody Proctor is a gossiping liar!
    Enter Mrs. Ann Putnam. She is a twisted soul of forty-five, a death-ridden woman, haunted by dreams.
    PARRIS, as soon as the door begins to open: No-no, I cannot have anyone. He sees her, and a certain deference springs into him, although his worry remains. Why, Goody Putnam, come in.
    MRS. PUTNAM, full of breath, shiny-eyed: It is a marvel. It is surely a stroke of hell upon you.
    PARRIS: No, Goody Putnam, it is—
    MRS. PUTNAM, glancing at Betty : How high did she fly, how high ?
    PARRIS: No, no, she never flew-MRS. PUTNAM, very pleased with it: Why, it’s sure she did. Mr. Collins saw her goin’ over Ingersoll’s barn, and come down light as bird, he says!
    PARRIS: Now, look you, Goody Putnam, she never— Enter Thomas Putnam, a well-to-do, hard-handed landowner, near fifty. Oh, good morning, Mr. Putnam.
    PUTNAM: It is a providence the thing is out now! It is a providence. He goes directly to the bed.
    PARRIS: What’s out, sir, what’s-?
    Mrs. Putnam goes to the bed.
    PUTNAM, looking down at Betty: Why, her eyes is closed! Look you, Ann.
    MRS. PUTNAM: Why, that’s strange. To Parris: Ours is open.
    PARRIS, shocked: Your Ruth is sick?
    MRS. PUTNAM, with vicious certainty: I’d not call it sick; the Devil’s touch is heavier than sick. It’s death, y’know, it’s death drivin’ into them, forked and hoofed.
    PARRIS: Oh, pray not! Why, how does Ruth ail?
    MRS. PUTNAM : She ails as she must-she never waked this morning, but her eyes open and she walks, and hears naught, sees naught, and cannot eat. Her soul is taken, surely.
    Parris is struck.
    PUTNAM, as though for further details: They say you’ve sent for Reverend Hale of Beverly?
    PARRIS, with dwindling conviction now: A precaution only. He has much experience in all demonic arts, and I-MRS. PUTNAM: He has indeed; and found a witch in Beverly last year, and let you remember that.
    PARRIS: Now, Goody Ann, they only thought that were a witch, and I am certain there be no element of witchcraft here.
    PUTNAM: No witchcraft! Now look you, Mr. Parris-PARRIS: Thomas, Thomas, I pray you, leap not to witchcraft. I know that you-you least of all, Thomas, would ever wish so disastrous a charge laid upon me. We cannot leap to witchcraft. They will howl me out of Salem for such corruption in my house.
     
    A word about Thomas Putnam. He was a man with many grievances, at least one of which appears justified. Some time before, his wife’s brother-in-law, James Bayley, had been turned down as minister of Salem. Bayley had all the qualifications, and a two-thirds vote into the bargain, but a faction stopped his acceptance, for reasons that are not clear.
    Thomas Putnam was the eldest son of the richest man in the village. He had fought the Indians at Narragansett, and was deeply interested in parish affairs. He undoubtedly felt it poor payment that the village should so blatantly disregard his candidate for one of its more important offices, especially since he regarded himself as the intellectual superior of most of the people around him.
    His vindictive nature was demonstrated long before the witchcraft began. A former Salem minister, George Burroughs, had had to borrow