Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/325

Rh whiles th' onnat'ral thing wor maddlin' wi' th' others, 'n wo'kin' fur me'a.

To last, things got so bad that th' measter gi'n ma tha sack, 'n ef he hadn't, a do b'leeve as ahl th' rest o' th' lads 'd a sacked him, fur tha swore as tha'd not sta'ay on sa'ame garth wi' mea. Well, nat'rally a felt bad; 'twor a main good pla'ace, an' good pa'ay too; an' a wor fair mad wi' Yallery Brown, as 'd got ma into sich 'n a trooble. So afore a knowt a shuk ma fist i' th' air an' called oot 's lood 's a cud, "Yallery Brown, coom fra tha mools; thou scamp, a want tha!"

Thou'll sca'arce b'leeve it, but a 'd 'ardly brung oot th' wo'ds as a felt suthin' tweakin' ma leg behin', while a joomped wi' th' smart o' 't; and soon 's a looked doon, theer wor th' tiddy thing, wi' 's shinin' hair, 'n wrinkled fa'ace, an' wicked glintin' black eyne.

A wor in a fine rage, an' 'd loiked to ha' kicked un, but 'twor no'on good, there worn't enuff on un to git ma boot agin'; but a said to-wanst, "Look here, measter, ahl thank thee to leave ma alo'an arter this, dost hear? a want none o thy he'p, an' a'll hev nowt more to do with ee—see now."

Th' horrid thing brak oot wi' a screechin' laugh, an' p'inted 's brown finger at ma. "Ho, ho, Tom!" says a. "Thoust tha'anked me, ma lad, an' atowld thee not, atowld thee not!"

"A don't want thy he'p, a tell thee," a yelled at un—"a ony want niver to see thee agean, an' to ha' nowt more to do with 'ee—thou can go—" but a won't tell 'ee ahl a said, fur a wor fair ma'ad.

Tha thing on'y laught' 'n screeched 'n mocked, 's long 's a went on sweerin', but so soon 's ma bre'ath gi'n oot,—

"Tom, ma lad," he said wi' a grin, "a'll tell'ee summat, Tom. True 's tre-ue a'll niver he'p thee ag'ean, an' call 's thou will, thou'll niver see ma arter to-da'ay; but a niver said 's a 'd leave thee alo'an, Tom, an' a niver wull, ma lad! A wor nice an' sa'afe unner th' stoun, Tom, an' cud do no ha'arm; but thou let ma oot thy-sel', an' thou can't put ma