“Laughed at me and puffed smoke in my face. ‘Go to,’ says he, ‘for a fool. Thou must get some one to sew some more buttons on thee. Mother Goodhugh be no witch.’”
“Did he say that?”
“Ay, that he did, and when Betsy Goodsell saw the white sperrit o’ Sweet Mace, in the wood near the high rocks and went and asked parson to lay it, he got in such a rage that Betsy had to go.”
“She should ha’ took him an offering and then he would.”
“She did. She took him a two-pound lump o’ the fresh butter from her cow after putting a lump o’ salt i’ the churn to keep out the witch, and told him what she wanted done, and he ups with the butter and throws it at her, and it stuck on the door-post till Mistress Hilberry come and took it off; and when she heard what was wanted she said Parson ought to do it, and then he called her a silly fool.”
“What did she want Parson to do?”
“To do, why, to lay the spirit that kept walking uneasily night after night. Ay, and it keeps walking now, as a dozen Roehurst folk could tell, only they won’t speak about it for fear of doing themselves ill.”
“What did Betsy want him to do?”
“Why, just go and cut a piece o’ turf off her grave about a hand-breadth long and a hand-breadth wide, and lay it on the holy table in the church, and after that be done the spirit rests and doesn’t trouble people any more.”
“He might ha’ done that,” said the young mother. “I should say it would be wise to get a bit off Mother Goodhugh’s grave by-and-by to keep her from walking.”