"’Tain't nothin' but ol' broke up furnisher an' I ain't scairt er that. Lemme hide the conjer I done fixed fer my fine gemman, hide it so he cyarn't fin' it an' then fin' out what he makes his cha'ms out'n."
She whipped from her pocket one of her precious charm workers, wrapped in an old sock heel, and deftly slipped it beneath the cot mattress.
"I 'low you won't sleep so easy now, young man."
The attic was dark and the guttering candle only made a blur of light. Aunt Peachy peered uneasily into the black corners, hardly knowing where to begin on her search for the superior conjuring material that she was sure Philip must possess.
"Here that there bottle er stuff what smells so strong!" she exclaimed, putting the candle down on Philip's work table. "I reckon it air rank pizen." She took out the cork and sniffed suspiciously. "Fust I'll git my claws on this here." She tried to put the bottle of varnish remover in her pocket, but it was too large, so she clasped it in her arms.
"What he gonter do with this here broken glass? I betcher he plan to grind it up and put it in us's victuals—me 'n' my baby's. I gonter
