Today in Salem: Just over the Town border, the long Wooleston River splits into three tributaries and points like the Devil’s pitchfork straight at Salem Village. At the sharp point of one tine sits a tavern, where the harsh John Proctor has just walked in.
Proctor settles at a table with a younger man named Sam. It was Sam’s wife who’d convinced Tituba to make a witch-cake last month. And his niece is Mary Walcott, the latest girl to claim affliction by showing bite marks on her arms. Sam also lives just a stone’s throw from the Meeting House, and another throw from Ingersoll’s Ordinary. In short, Sam sees and knows everything.
Already impatient, Proctor asks a single question: What condition were the girls in last night? They had testified at yesterday’s examination and stayed overnight at Ingersoll’s, where Sam would have noticed them. Sam shakes his head and says they were in a bad way, including Proctor’s maid, Mary Warren.
Proctor slams his mug onto the wooden table. He’s on his way now to fetch the little bitch, Proctor says rudely, and beat the devil out of her if he needs to. As for the other girls, hang them!
Sam sucks in his cheeks. Hang them? Including Sam’s niece?
Meanwhile Sam’s wife is crying in Rev Parris’s study. He’s just found out about her role in making the witch-cake, and is lecturing her at length about using “diabolical means.” He writes an explanation of what happened, followed by her confession and apology. The entire congregation will hear it read this Sabbath Day.