Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 1, 1890.djvu/313

 Rh “Morning, fool,” said she; “hast been ducked in the horsepond?”

“Fool yourself,” said he, “the wise woman says I’ll know more’n she when I get a coat o’ clay, and here it is. Shall I marry thee, lass?”

“Ay,” said she, for she thought she’d like a fool for a husband, “when shall it be?”

“I’ll come and fetch thee when I’ve told my mother,” said the fool, and he gave her his lucky penny and went on. When he got home his mother was on the doorstep.

“Mother, I’ve got a coat o’ clay,” said he.

“Coat o’ muck,” said she, “an’ what of that?”

“Wise woman said I’d know more’n she when I get a coat o’ clay,” said he, “so I down in the drain an’ got one, an’ I’m not a fool any longer.”

“Very good,” said his mother, “now thou canst get a wife.”

“Ay,” said he, “I’m going to marry so-an’-so.”

“What!” said his mother, “that lass? No, an’ that thou’lt not. She’s nought but a brat, wi’ ne’er a cow or a cabbage o’ her own, an’ bears a bad name into the bargain.”

“But I gave her my luck-penny,” said the fool.

“Then thou’rt a bigger fool than ever, for all thy coat o’ clay!” said his mother, and banged the door in his face.

“Dang it!” said the fool, and scratched his head, “that’s not the right sort o’ clay, sure-ly.”

So back he went to the highroad and sat down on the bank of the river close by, looking at the water, which was cool and clear.

By-and-bye he fell asleep, and before he knew what he was about—plump—he rolled off into the river with a splash, and scrambled out, dripping like a drowned rat.

“Dear, dear,” said he, “I’d better go and get dry in the sun.” So up he went to the highroad, and lay down in the dust, rolling about so that the sun should get at him all over.