And when Ma sees how much he’p I kin be . . . I bet Pa’ll figger I’m a he’p too! Why, I’d be jest as good as a boy, almost!

But then, the inescapable truth—to do that, she’d have to learn how to use the Glory. Which was witchcraft.

But Aunt Jinny wasn’t the only person in this cabin that knew her Bible . . .

And Aunt Jinny was right. There wasn’t a single thing in the whole durned New Testament about witchcraft. Not even Apostle Paul, who had plenty to say on other subjects, like it being “better to marry than to burn” and about women keeping their mouths shut tight and obeying their men, didn’t have a thing to say about witchcraft.

Even Revelations didn’t have anything to say about witchcraft, and it was chock full of lakes of fire and demons and the Whore of Babylon.

And even in the Old Testament, right there next to the business about not allowing a witch to live, there was King Saul, going to visit the Witch of Endor—who he had obviously allowed to live!—in order to consult with the spirit of the Prophet Samuel! And the Prophet Samuel turned right up without anything bad to say about the Witch herself, and gave King Saul the advice he need for fighting the Philistines. So at least that book of the Bible seemed to imply that it was perfectly all right to consult witches as long as they were doing the right thing, and not going around flinging curses about.

On top of all of that . . . there were some of the things that Pavel had described himself doing that she would very much like to be able to do. How could it be a bad thing to be able to do what Aunt Jinny did, and make potions better so they could make people well? How could it be a bad thing, to be able to talk with all of those little critters, and bargain with them to help you? How could it be bad to get them to make it so your crops didn’t fail, and your animals all prospered, as long as you shared with them as needed it and weren’t selfish about it? Hadn’t Aunt Jinny said she made up bundles of food and distributed them to widows in Ducktown? If that wasn’t doing exactly the kind of good Jesus said to do, then what was?

Finally she got back out of bed and onto her knees again. The cabin was completely dark now, except for the very faint, red glow of the coals in the stove, banked until tomorrow.

Please, Lord Jesus, she prayed, squeezing her eyes tight shut and clenching her hands together so hard they hurt. Please. I don’ know what ter do. I need Y’all t’show me what ter do! Please, please give me a sign. Show me iffen this Glory, this witchery Aunt Jinny wants for t’teach me, is good in Yore Sight or evil. Please, Lord Jesus, show me th’way! Amen.