Wind flew down the chimney in hard gusts driving smoke into the room and fanning up the ashes, scattering them in the victuals. Her baby was in mortal danger too, for he cried out in his sleep, frightened by evil things he saw in his dreams.
"I'd like to kill Cinder, Daddy—kill em dead. If you'll gi me a pizen I'll feed it to em till e is stone dead."
Daddy shook his head kindly. "No, honey, you wrong. Pizen ain' to be trusted. Sometimes, it works backwards as well as forwards, you might be de one to dead. Hatin ain' good for you, neither. It'll pizen you breast milk an' make you baby sick. It's better to go easy wid conjure. You must stop frettin an' bein scared. Keep you belly full o victuals, make you mouth smile, laugh an' be merry if you can. Don' never let people see you down-hearted, or a-hangin you head, an' lookin sorrowful. Dat ain' de way. No. Mens don' crave a sorrowful, sad-lookin 'oman. Don' never let a man feel sorry for you if you want em to stick to you."
He got up and went out of the door into the yard and Mary could hear him puttering around, scratching in the earth as if he were digging up something. Presently he came back smiling and poured her out a cup of tea from another
