Journal 2
March 28, 1692
I musta had this real dreamy look on my face because Mary asked, "What is going through your head, Abby?"
"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what she meant and I really didn't want to talk about it on my day off from the Proctors.
"The look on your face. It almost looks the same as my big sister after she stayed the night at Lucus Martin's house. Not that you'd know either of them since. . ."
"Mary, shut-up!" Sometimes her rambling could really grit my nerves.
"Sorry, Abby. I just wanted to know what had you smiling silly. You haven't smiled that much since your mamma died." She looked so down cast because of my meanness that I almost felt sorry for her, almost.
"Fine. I'll tell you, but you gotta promise not to tell a soul. You can't even write it in that diary a yours neither.
"Last night, John came into my room as I was getting ready for bed. He came up behind me and started whispering the sweetest things. He placed his hand here. He said, 'Come with me, my sweet. Come to the barn.' Then we. . ."
"You did what?" Mary eagerly edged on. I bit my lip and took a beep breath.
"We did you know." Her eyes got real wide.
"Right there with Goody Procter in the other room?"
"No, she had went out to help Goody Wilson give birth." Mary was for the first time in her life speechless.
Abigail Williams