Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/324

268 wanst; an' now," says he, pickin' a dandelion puff, "good noight to tha," an' he blowed it oop, an' it a'al coom in ma eyne an' ears. Soon 's a cud see agean tha tiddy creetur wor go'one, an but fur tha stoan on en' an' tha ho'al at ma feet, a 'd a thowt a 'd bin dreamin'.

Well, a want ho'am an' to bed; an' by tha mo'nin' a'd nigh furgot ahl aboot 'un. But when a went to th' wo'k, thur wor none to do! ahl wor done a'ready, th' hosses seen to, tha stables cleaned oot, iverythin' in 's proper pla'ace, an' a'd nowt to do but sit wi' ma han's in ma pockets. An' so 't went on da'ay arter da'ay, ahl th' wo'k done by Yallery Brown, 'n better done, too, than a cud ha' done 't masel'. An' ef tha measter gi'n ma more wo'k, a sat doon by, an' tha wo'k done itsel', tha singin' irons, or tha besom, or what not, 'set to, an' wi' ne'er a han' put to un' 'd get thruff in no toime. Fur a niver seed Yallery Brown o' da'aylight; on'y in th' da'arklins a ha seed un hoppin' aboot, loike a wull-o-th'-wyke wi'oot 's lanthorn.

To fust, 'twor mighty fine fur ma; a 'd nowt to do'a, an' good pa'ay fur 't; but by-'n-by, things 'gun to go arsy-varsy. Ef tha wo'k wor done fur me'a, 'twor undone fur th' other lads; ef ma boockets wor filled, theers wor oopset; ef ma tools wor sha'arped, theers wor blunted 'n sp'iled; ef ma hosses wor cle'an 's daisies, theers wor spla'ashed wi' moock, an' so on; day in an' da'ay oot, 'swor alius the se'ame. An' th' lads seed Yallery Brown flittin' aboot o' noights, an' tha seed tha things wo'kin' wi'oot han's o' da'ays, an' tha seed as ma wo'k wor done fur ma, an theers undone fur them; an' nat'rally they 'gun to look shy on ma, an' tha wudn't spe'ak or coom nigh ma, an' tha carried ta'ales to th' measter an' so things want fro' bad to wuss.

Fur, seest tha? a cud do nothin' masel'; tha brooms wud'nt sta'ay in ma han', th' plough ran awa'ay fro' ma, th' hoe kep' oot o' ma grip. A'd thowt oft as' a'd do ma o'an wo'k arter all, so's mebbe Yallery Brown 'd leave me 'n ma neebours alo'an. But a cudn't—treue 's de'ath a cudn't. A cud on'y sit by 'n look on, 'n hev th' could shouther to'ned on ma.