"“You’re not a believer yourself, then, Mistress Weatherwax?”... “Oh, I reckon I believes in tea, sunrises, that sort of thing,” said Granny. “I was referring to religion.” “I know a few gods in these parts, if that’s what you mean.” Oats sighed. “Many people find faith a great solace,” he said. He wished he was one of them. “Good.” “Really? Somehow I thought you’d argue.” “It’s not my place to tell ’em what to believe, if they act decent.” “But it’s not something you feel drawn to, perhaps, in the darker hours?” “No. I’ve already got a hot water bottle.” (pp. 278-279; ellipsis represents a minor elision of description)"