'Theer wor witches yance, my gell, becos it's in th' Bible, an
whativer's in th' Bible's _true_,' and the farmer brought his
hand down on the top bar of the gate. 'I'm no gien ony judgment
about 'em nowadays. Theer wor aw mak o' queer things said
about Jenny Crum an Needham Farm i' th' owd days. I've heerd
my grandmither say it worn't worth a Christian man's while to
live in Needham Farm when Jenny Crum wor about. She meddled wi
everythin--wi his lambs, an his coos, an his childer. I niver seed
nothin mysel, so I doan't say nowt--not o' my awn knowledge. But I
doan't soomhow bleeve as it's th' Awmighty's will to freeten a
Christian coontry wi witches, _i' th' present dispensation_.
An murderin's a graat sin, wheder it's witches or oother foak.'
'In t' books they doan't coe it t' Witch's Pool at aw,' said Louie,
obstinately. 'They coe it t' _Mermaid's_ Pool.'
'An anoother book coes it a "Hammer-dry-ad,"' said David,
mockingly, 'soa theer yo are.'
'Aye, soom faddlin kind of a name they gie it--I know--those
Manchester chaps, as cooms trespassin ower t' Scout wheer they
aren't wanted. To hear ony yan o' _them_ talk, yo'd think
theer wor only three fellows like 'im cam ower i' three ships, an
two were drownded. T'aint ov ony account what they an their books
coe it.'
And Reuben, as he leant against the gate, blew his smoke
contemptuously in the air. It was not often that Reuben Grieve
allowed himself, or was allowed by his world, to use airs of
superiority towards any other human being whatever. But in the case
of the Manchester clerks and warehousemen, who came tramping over
the grouse moors which Reuben rented for his sheep, and were always
being turned back by keepers or himself--and in their case
only--did he exercise, once in a while, the commonest privilege of
humanity.
'Did yo iver know onybody 'at went up on Easter Eve?' asked David.
Both children hung on the answer.
Reuben scratched his head. The tales of Jenny Crum, once well known
to him, had sunk deep into the waves of memory of late years, and
his slow mind had some difficulty in recovering them. But at last
he said with the sudden brightening of recollection:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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