The thing that Jinny had called a “Domovoy” nodded its gray head ponderously in agreement. “Daid,” it echoed.

The little creatures clustered about her, all but the tiny Indian. He hopped up on the table and helped himself to cornbread.

It was that—and the glance full of mischief that the tiny man gave her as he stuffed a crumb in his mouth—that finally made her relax a little.

But only a little. “How’d I git this Glory thang?” she asked, a little desperately. “What iffen I don’ want it?”

“I dunno where y’all got it. I got it from my Granny an’ Granpappy on my Ma’s side,” Jinny replied. “Yore Ma ain’t got it, no more did her Ma. My Pa didn’ hev it hisself. My Pa knowed ’bout it, ’cause my Ma had a liddle bit an’ Granny and Granpappy had a lot. Some people got a liddle, some got it middlin’, some got it a lot. I got it middlin’. Ole Raven, he thinks y’all got a lot.”

“But what iffen I don’ want it?” she repeated, her voice getting a little shrill.

“Reckon Raven kin block it up,” Jinny admitted reluctantly. “But it’d be a damnfool thang t’do. Y’all wanted t’ be a Root Woman on account of y’all know y’all ain’t niver gonna lack fer a way t’ et, right? Wall, this works with bein’ a Root Woman. Makes all yore potions work better.” Anna must have looked as though she was unconvinced, because Jinny scowled. “Hell an’ damnation, girl! The fact thet I got Glory’s th’ reason yore Pa ain’t sicker than he is!”

She quailed a little, and felt herself trembling. “But . . . this’s witchery, right? Y’all said some folks call it witchery! An’ don’t the Bible say ‘Do not suffer a witch to live’?”

“The Bible also says some damn fool thangs like y’all cain’t et cheese an’ meat t’gether, nor hev linsey-woolsey skirts, nor et crawdads an’ ham an’ bacon!” Jinny retorted. “It also says damn fool thangs like that God kin send bears t’ et up liddle kids what makes fun uv a prophet’s bald haid! Th’ Ole Testyment’s fulla damn fool thangs, an’ tha’s a fact!”

She wanted to object . . . but she knew good and well that the Bible did say those things. And . . . bacon. And ham. Why shouldn’t you eat pork? Pigs were easy and cheap to raise—and wild pig was available to anyone who was a decent shot, no matter how poor. She began to waver. Maybe Aunt Jinny was right . . .

The little critters began to get bored, and fidgeted. Her aunt made a shooing motion and they all ran off. All except the Domovoy. It turned its heavy, bearded head to look at her solemnly.

“You must be to listening to devushka Virginia,” it said, in a strangely accented, gravelly voice that seemed to come from inside her head, not through her ears. “I will go now.” And just like that, it slipped under the stove, as if it were no thicker than a piece of paper.