Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/175

Rh He scratched 's head, an' thowt, an' thowt, but a couldn't tell.

"Go thy ways,' says she, "thou'st no fo't me the reet thing yet. I'se no'on brains fur 'ee to-day". An' she clapt the book togither, an' t'orned 's back.

So off tha fool went to tell 's mother.

But as a got nigh the hoose, oot came fo'ak runnin' to tell un 'at 's mother was deein'.

An' when he got in, 's mother ony looked at un, an' smiled, 's if to say she could leave un wi' a quiet min, sence a'd got brains 'nuff noo to look arter 's sel'—an' then she dee'd.

So doun a sat, an' the more a thowt aboot it the badder a feeled. He minded hoo she'd nuss't un when a wor a tiddy brat, an' he'ped un wi' 's lessons, an' cooked 's dinners, an' mended 's clouts, an' born wi' 's foolishness; an' a felt sorrier 'n' sorrier, while a began to sob an' greet.

"Oh, mother, mother!" says he, " who'll tak' care on me noo! Thou shouldn't hev' lef me alo'an, fur a liked thee better nor iverything!"

An' as he said that, he thowt of the words o' the wise woman. "Hi,yi!" says he, "must a cut oot mother's heart an' tak' it to her? A disna like the job," an' he took oot a knife an' felt's edge.

"No! a can't do 't," says he. "What'll a do! what'll a do to get that pottle o' brains, noo a'm alone i' the worl'?" So a thowt an' thowt, an' next day a went an' borrowed a sack, an' bundelt 's mother in, an' carried it on 's showther up to th' wise woman's cottage.

"Gode'en, missis," says he, "a reckon a 've fo't 'ee the reet thing this time, surely," an' he plumped the sack down kerflap! in the doorsil.

"Mebbe," says the wise woman, "but read me this, noo, what's yaller an' shinin' but isna goold?" An' he scratched 's head, an' thowt, an' thowt, but a couldna tell.

"Thou'st no hit the reet thing, my lad," says she. "I