“I have no personal knowledge of the fact, ma’am,” replied the good parson; “I have always found her a harmless and inoffensive woman, though some persons say she has put her mark on certain families.”
“I should think she has, indeed; so dunna yoo think she ought to be hanged and quartered, and her body and bones, and her heart and liver, burned by the common hangman, for causing so much trouble and loss to poor and innocent folks?”
“Surely she has not paid you a visit, has she?”
“She ha, though; and, what is worse, she has spoiled a beautiful churning of milk, and killed our pony, which Lloyd was offered thirty pounds for at last May fair.”
“I am sorry to hear this of Mrs. McGee,” observed Mr. Jones; “but, my dear madam, when and how did this happen?”
“When my daughter Mary was churning on Wednesday morning, who should kum up to the dairy door but Moll the witch. She sez, sez she, ‘Will you give me some buttermilk, Mrs. Lloyd?’
“‘No,’ sez I; ‘I’ve no buttermilk to spare.’
“‘But yoo must,’ sez she, ‘give me some.’
“‘I have sed the word, Mrs. McGee, that I’ve none to spare; and if I had, you shudna have any.’
“‘Why?’ sez she.