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George had been seized by the mob with the lady they referred to as the Witch of Windermere and thrown right into a dungeon. After a while, the door opened and one other man was pushed inside. In the gloom, George thought at first that it was his man, Jack, who had been pushed in by way of the door. ‘So they acquired you as properly,’ he stated, however then realised it was another person in Jack’s Scottish outfit. ‘He stole my garments then accused me of being a Scottish spy,’ the poor fellow exclaimed. ‘Oh, I anticipate he is aware of what he is doing,’ stated George.
‘He’ll get us all burned with that previous shrew,’ went on the brand new arrival. ‘I do not assume so,’ stated George, ‘he does not need to lose his sixpence every week.’
‘Paid as a lot as that, is he?’
‘Yes, I’m a beneficiant employer,’
‘He works for you!’
‘If you possibly can name it working.’
‘Then I maintain you chargeable for the return of my garments, clear and undamaged.’
‘All might be restored to your full satisfaction,’ stated George. ‘However, I’m not proud of you referring to this good woman as an previous shrew and I assume she deserves an apology.’
‘What! Apologise to a witch!’
‘The woman is accused of witchcraft however she deserves to be thought-about harmless till proved responsible.’
‘I do not assume that mob is intent on a good trial.’
‘Oh, they’ve a trial in thoughts, it is referred to as the ducking stool,’ stated the woman, chatting with the brand new arrival for the primary time.
‘No, they do not use the ducking stool right here,’ stated the pseudo Scotsman.
‘What do they do then?’ requested George.
‘They’ll tie her proper thumb to her left huge toe and throw her into deep water. As we’re close to Windermere it’s going to in all probability be within the lake.’
‘How is that a trial?’
‘If she floats, she’s in league with the satan for rejecting the holy water and shall be taken out, dried off, and burned.’
‘And if she sinks?’ George requested.
‘She’s harmless and shall be freed.’
‘Then we should make certain that she sinks,’ pronounced the patron saint.
‘But what if she actually is a witch?’ protested the newcomer.
‘That have to be established in a good trial,’ insisted George, ‘not by this foolish dunking stunt.’
‘You’re proper,’ stated the person, hoping that if there was a good trial there can be no burning.
‘Glad you agree,’ stated George, ‘now how are we going to make sure that this woman sinks?’
‘Not for too lengthy, I hope,’ stated the woman.
‘Well, I might lend you my helmet however that might be troublesome to hide.’
‘No, it’s going to should be your boots,’ stated the pseudo Scotsman.
Reluctantly our hero eliminated his iron boots and gave them to the accused witch who instantly hid them within the folds of her voluminous gown. She hoped she wouldn’t be searched too rigorously earlier than the aqueous ordeal.
Source by John Powell