Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/322

266 Tiddy People. Hawiver, doon a fell on ma knee-bones by tha stoan, an' barkened agean. Clearer nor iver, but tired an' spent wi' greetin' cam tha little sobbin' voice—"Ooh! ooh! tha stoan, tha stoan on top." A wor gey'an misloiken' to maddle wi' tha thing, but a cudna stan' tha whimperin' babby, an' a tore loike mad at the stoan, till a felt un liftin' fro' tha mools, an' a'al to wanst a cam wi' a sough, oot o' tha damp yarth an' tha tangl'd grass 'n growin' things. An' ther, i' tha ho'al la'ay a tiddy thing on 's ba'ack, blinkin' oop at tha moon an' at me. 'Twor no'an bigger 'n a ye'ar au'd brat, but a'd long cotted hair an' beard, twisted roon' an' roon's body so's a cudna see's clouts; an' tha hair wer a'al yaller an' shinin' an' silky, loike a barn's; but tha face o't wor au'd an' 's if t'wcr hunnerds o' years sin' 'twer young an' smooth. Just a he'ap o' wrinkles, an' two bright bla'ack eyne i' tha mid, set in a lot o' shinin' yaller hair; an' tha skin wor tha colour o' tha fresh turned yarth i' tha spring—brown s brown cud be, an's barehan's an' feet wor brown loike the fa'ace o' un. Tha greetin' 'd stoppit, but tha tears wor stannin' on's cheek, an' tha tiddy thing looked mazed loike i' tha moonshine an' tha night air. A wor wonnerin' what a'd do, but by en by he scrammell'd oot o' tha ho'al, an' studd lookin' 'bowt un, an' at masel'. He wor'nt oop to ma knee, but a wor tha quarest creetur a iver set eyes on. Brown an' yaller a'al over; yaller an' brown, as a towd tha afwore, an' wi' sich 'n a glint in 's eyne, an' skh 'n a weezen'd fa'ace, 'at a felt feared on un, fur a'al 's wor so tiddy 'n au'd.

Tha creetur's eyne got some used loike to tha moonloight, an' presently a lookit oop i' ma fa'ace 's bould 's iver wor. "Tom," says he, "thou'st a good lad!" 's cool 's thou can think, says he, " Tom, thou'st a good lad !" an's voice wor soft an' high an' pipin' loike a little bird twitterin'.

A touched ma hat, an' began to think what a'd oughter sa'ay; but a wer clemmed wi' froight an' a cudn't open ma gob. "Houts!" says tha thing agean, "Tha needn't be feared o' me; thou'st done me a better to'n nor tha knowst.