Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 2, 1891.djvu/329

Rh fo'aks fur gittin' fe'ared i' th' da'arklins; "Begox," said th' silly creetur, "a'l not rue from ma wo'd, a promise 'ee; pack o' fools as y' are, what fur shu'd a cum to ha'arm i' th' Cars, wheer a mun goa nigh ivery da'ay in ma reg'lar wo'k ?"

An' a spak so bould an' easy-loike that some o' th' youngsters 'gun to think 'at mebbe a wor reet arter all, 'n that tha bogles wor no'on so bla'ack, 's th' sa'ayin' is, 's tha wor pa'inted. But th' au'd uns know'd better'n that, an' shuk ther he'ads, an' wished 'at no ha'arm 'd cum o' th' boy's folly an' onbelievin' wa'ays. Well, nex' da'ay, they all thowt as Tom 'd rue 's wo'd soon's a'd thowt on it a bit; but fur all that th' men an' lads met at th' corner o' th' green lane, agin the cottage wheer a doolt wi's mother, cum the da'arklins. Whan they got theer tha cud hear tha au'd woman sobbin' an' scoldin' i' th' kitchen; an they 'gan to wun'ner if, arter all, th' lad ra'aly meant to cross th' Cars alo'an. An by'n by tha door wor flinged open, 'n oot he cam' laughin' loike mad, an' pullin' awa'ay fro's au'd mother, as wor tryin' to put suthin' in 's pocket, an' greetin' fit to break her heart.

"No'a, mother, a tell tha," tha lad wor sa'ayin', "a'l hev none o' tha spells 'n bobberies; stop tha whimperin', wilt tho'. A'll cum back sa'afe 'n soun' bye 'n bye; don't tha be a fool loike tha rest o' um, dost hear?" An' a sna'atched tha la'anthorn fra th' au'd woman, an' runn'd aff a-aughin'laughin' [sic] 'n floutin' th' la'ads, t'ords the Car'en'.

Tha men, some of un, tried t' stop th' la'ad, an' begged un not to goa, seest tha? an' Willie Kirby sa'aid: "A'll rue ma wo'ds ef tha do'a-ant rue thine; an' tha can flout 's so much as thee loikes, on'y sta-ay by, 'n do'ant goa yonner. Tha do'ant knaw what mowt 'appen to tha"; but Tom on'y la'aughed agean, an' snappit 's fingers i' Willy's fa'ace. "That fur tha boggart, an' thee to'oa!" a cried, an' ra'an th' fa'aster. So th' au'd fo'ak waggled ther he'ads an' went hoam hopin' fur th' best, but feelin' sore mischancy. Howiver, some o' th' youngsters thought sha'ame t' be feared, seein' as Tom recked nowt o'