“It shu’ be, Missie. Dat’s de reason it bust out, widout a leaf a-showin’, in Feb’ry! Sum ob dose Alabamy niggers knows a sight ob t’ings ‘bout witches. Ole mammy, what uster bang me right smart all de time I wus a-growin’ up, she uster say dat if yo’ could only be near one ob dese meetin’s ob witches at dese trees yo’d h’ar strange t’ings!” replied Lily, rolling her eyes solemnly. “It’s ’long ’bout dis time ob de year, w’en de blossoms show dat dey meets up an’ makes der plans,” she added.
“I wish I could see them,” said Berry thoughtfully; “and, if they were good witches, perhaps they would tell me where Mollie Bragg is, and when she is coming home.”
“Dar ain’ no sich thing as a ‘good’ witch, Missie!” said Lily. “I reckons dey might tell yo’ w’ot yo’ wants ter know if yo’ wus ter mak’ ’em promises,” she added thoughtfully.
Berry was now eager to know all that Lily could tell her, and, forgetting all about the butterwort, the two girls seated themselves on a moss-covered log near the “red-bud” trees, and Lily began the story she had so often heard on the Alabama plantation, of the proper way to secure the friendly assistance of a witch.
“’Course, Missie, yo’ knows jes’ w’ot a witch is. Dey’s a kind ob black woman, wid wings. An’ sometimes dey ain’ no bigger dan a spider, an’ ag’in, dey’s big as a house! I knows all ’bout ’em!” declared Lily. “I wus bro’t up ’mongst niggers w’ot had seen ’em! Yas, ’deed dey did!” and Lily nodded her woolly head so solemnly that Berry was convinced that her companion could tell her exactly the right manner to win the friendship of these powerful creatures who met at midnight beneath the blossoming Judas-tree.
“Yo’ has ter take a sight ob trubble, Missie, ter meet up wid a witch, an’ I dunno as I orter tell yo’,” and Lily cast a troubled glance at her young mistress.
“Of course you must tell me, Lily!” Berry insisted eagerly. “Just telling me what people do to get a promise from a witch can’t do me any harm. And sometime it might be a great help,” she urged.
“Dat’s so, Missie,” Lily agreed thoughtfully, and, with a cautious look toward the flaming red-buds, as if even in daylight some careless witch might forget herself and appear at the chosen meeting-place of her kind, the negro girl drew a long breath and, leaning nearer to Berry, began, in almost a whisper, to tell the proper way to gain the favor of witches.
“Fus’ t’ing ter do, Missie, is ter chuse de right time o’ de moon. If dar be a moon showin’ clar at midnight ’tain’ no use! De berry bes’ time am de dark ob de moon. An’ yo’ mus’ be mighty near de tree, so’s if de witches be de small kind yo’ kin see ’em. But yo’ mus’n’ let ’em see yo’! ’Deed yo’ mus’n’, Missie!”
Berry nodded solemnly, and leaned a little nearer to her companion.