Some gypsies struck their tents on the main road about a mile from Nancy’s home, and one night a man rode up, inquired for Mammy Nancy, and said his wife was sick. She was soon with the gypsy, who was ailing some two weeks, and when Nancy returned she was not only a doctress, but a firm believer in witchcraft, and could tell your fortune by looking at your hand.

Nancy was making some bone-set and snake-root tea—Billy had the shakes, so she said—when Billy broke the silence by asking, “Nancy, what’s de matter wid dem hens?”

“Billy, you know uh mink skerd de hens week ’fo’ lars’, an’ ’sturbed deah mem’ry fuh layin’. I ain’ got but eight eggs ter-day an’ none yistiddy, so dese all we got fuh suppah.”

“Is you got de spider hot? Well, den, cut orf eight slices ub bacon an’ den we will hab uh slice ub bacon fuh each egg. Heah’s some kinlin’ wood I picked up in Mars Pinckney’s woodpile, an’ by de time de bacon is fryin’ good—dat is, de grease bilin’—speck me back wid fo’ catfish I kotch in de net lars’ nite, which will keep us fum gittin’ horngry befo’ suppah time. I’m gwine ter de rebate ter-night.”

“Billy, ez I ondastan’ hit da ain’ much use gwine. Uncle Reubin, Pawson Demby an’ Damon Danridge is on de side futto ’sterminate de witches, an’ dat fusty niggah, Jerry Jones, is fuh lettin’ de witches lib. Now I don’ kuh any mo’ fuh him dan I do fuh uh shirk! Tell me, lars’ nite at Mage Rudd’s sto’ he spressify hissef dat he wuz so well ’quainted wid de witches in Haylan’ Branch dat dey al’ays bow ter him when dey meet him; an’ he say he of’n hab composation wid ’em, an’ dat dey hab de gre’tes’ condidence in him; an’ Mage Rudd say he has heahd de witches mo’n once praisin’ him. He’s got uh bran’ new fiddle an’ bo’ dat cos’ $9, which he made fum coon hides in one monf. De fac’ is, strange ez hit may seem, dey won’ let nobody hunt in Haylan’ Branch ceppin Jerry. Mo’n dat, dey tell me he said he wan’ feared ub de sponsibility ub rebatin’ by hissef; dat de witches sass him sometimes, but fuh de mos’ part dey kine and lubly.”

“Now, Nancy, Jerry nebba spressify dat de witches lubly.”

“Yas he did! Mo’n dat, Ceaser an’ Jerry Butler heah him, an’ dey so pestered ’boutin dem witches ’stead ub walkin’ fum deah house thoo Pleasant Walley ter wha dey keep deah boat on de ribba, not mo’n uh quarter ub uh mile fum deah house, dey walks two miles ’roun’ de walley, dey so feared dem witches ride an’ whup ’em. Hit wudn’ s’prise me ef’n de debbil wuz ter transplant Jerry same ez de Lawd transplanted Eunuch. Why, he’s ebin ’cused de Petracks ub lubbin’ an’ keepin’ comp’ny wid witches. Hit’s scan’lus! Damon Danridge say dat he heah Jerry Jones say dat Samuel de fus’ use ter let witches roos’ all erroun’ his house, an’ dat hit’s true dat Moses fell out wid uh witch an’ say, [[10]]”Thou shall not suffah uh witch ter lib,” an’ he mout uh kilt ’em all, but jes’ den Mars Noahy an’ his cullud son Ham driv up wid uh bag an’ say, “Saul, I’m bleeged ter hab uh par ub witches fuh meh boat,” an’ Jerry ’low dat de sponsibility resses wid Mars Noahy, de father ub dat lubly boy Ham.

“Stephen, what is de rebate ezactly? I dunno what you gwine fuh! I hab uh gre’t mine ter meck you stay home an’ hab nuffin ter do wid witches. How kin you go ter de rebate when da is three hens hatchin’, an’ minks imperdent? Da is only one thing I want you ter go fuh, an’ I bin layin’ out futto tell you.

“Yistiddy mawnin’ I wuz crossin’ de road gwine ter de thicket wha dat speckled hen name “Yaller Legs” is hatchin’—in de pile ub jack-oak brush close ter de spring—when, lo an’ beholst! dat free niggah Jim Brooks cum erlong. He wuz dribin’ in his kyart uh po’ leetle harf-starbed steer, an’ I wuz jes’ thinkin’ ter mehsef, Is dat kyart movin’ er no, so slow wuz he gwine. De truf is de leetle steer wan’ much bigger dan one ub Mars Pinckney’s wethers. Tho’ I nebba been interjuced ter dat Jim Brooks (me dat waits on de qual’ty), jes’ ez I cross de road dat free niggah say ter his steer, ‘Step up, Pete, step up; an’ look out, stranger, dat you don’ git run ober!’ Now, I cornsider dat de wus’ sort ub impotence, an’ I wan’ you ter tell him so ef’n he is at Zion ter-night. I’m not gwine ter stan’ hit. Ef’n he had uh par ub fars-trottin’ steers like Uncle Simon’s, hit wud be bad ’nuff, but ter be ’sulted by dat sort ub miration is scan’lus.”

“Well, Nancy, stay home an’ let me go ter de rebate; dem chickens’ hatchin’ is pow’ful waluble. I gib Mage Rudd five levys fuh thutty ub dem eggs, an’ he say dat breed ub chickens cum fum Henrico County, Firginny, an’ once lay uh gole egg; so ub cose dey wuf watchin’ day an’ nite. Mo’n dat, I am one ub de arbiters, an’ I won’ let dat imperdent free niggah Jim Brooks dat ’sulted you cum in Zion, ef’n hit breck up de rebate. I holp ter meck de brick fuh dat chuch, an’ I sut’ny got some sponsibility in de matter.”