merve/folk-mythology-tales · Datasets at Hugging Face

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me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble." She gave him that,
thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did
not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was a little
astonished.

He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said he, "What are
servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?"

"Nothing at all, but to go to bed."

"Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay
down, and some one that saw him told the master. He came up.

"Jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "To go to sleep,
master. The mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast,
dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing.
Do you blame me, sir?"

"Yes, you rascal, I do."

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir."

"One divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?"

"Oh, I see, you've forgot your bargain. Are you sorry for it?"

"Oh, ya--no, I mean. I'll give you the money after your nap."

Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "You are
to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." The
master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was
Jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and
the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and Jack
pulling ding-dong again' the horses.

"What are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master.

"An' ain't I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told me;
but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spite of all
I say; will you speak to him?"

"No, but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that when I
said 'holding the plough,' I meant reddening the ground."

"Faith, an' if you did, I wish you had said so. Do you blame me for
what I have done?"

The master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said
nothing.

"Go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do."

"An' are you sorry for our agreement?"

"Oh, not at all, not at all!"

Jack, ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day.

In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a field
that had half of it under young corn. "Be sure, particularly," said he,
"to keep Browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischief there's no
fear of the rest."

About noon, he went to see how Jack was doing his duty, and what did he
find but Jack asleep with his face to the sod, Browney grazing near a
thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and the other end
round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating the
green wheat. Down came the switch on Jack.

"Jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?"

"And do you blame, master?"

"To be sure, you lazy sluggard, I do?"

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. You said if I
only kept Browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. There she
is as harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master?"

"To be--that is, not at all. I'll give you your money when you go to
dinner. Now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field nor
into the wheat the rest of the day."

"Never fear, master!" and neither did he. But the churl would rather
than a great deal he had not hired him.

The next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade Jack go in
search of them.

"Where will I look for them?" said Jack.

"Oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in."

The churl was getting very exact in his words. When he was coming into
the bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at but pulling
armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into the holes he was
making?

"What are you doing there, you rascal?"

me my supper, and be done with the day's trouble." She gave him that,

thinking he'd take it to the bog; but he fell to on the spot, and did

not leave a scrap to tell tales on him; and the mistress was a little

astonished.

He called to speak to the master in the haggard, and said he, "What are

servants asked to do in this country after aten their supper?"

"Nothing at all, but to go to bed."

"Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay

down, and some one that saw him told the master. He came up.

"Jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "To go to sleep,

master. The mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast,

dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing.

Do you blame me, sir?"

"Yes, you rascal, I do."

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir."

"One divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?"

"Oh, I see, you've forgot your bargain. Are you sorry for it?"

"Oh, ya--no, I mean. I'll give you the money after your nap."

Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "You are

to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." The

master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was

Jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and

the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and Jack

pulling ding-dong again' the horses.

"What are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master.

"An' ain't I strivin' to hold this divel of a plough, as you told me;

but that ounkrawn of a boy keeps whipping on the bastes in spite of all

I say; will you speak to him?"

"No, but I'll speak to you. Didn't you know, you bosthoon, that when I

said 'holding the plough,' I meant reddening the ground."

"Faith, an' if you did, I wish you had said so. Do you blame me for

what I have done?"

The master caught himself in time, but he was so stomached, he said

nothing.

"Go on and redden the ground now, you knave, as other ploughmen do."

"An' are you sorry for our agreement?"

"Oh, not at all, not at all!"

Jack, ploughed away like a good workman all the rest of the day.

In a day or two the master bade him go and mind the cows in a field

that had half of it under young corn. "Be sure, particularly," said he,

"to keep Browney from the wheat; while she's out of mischief there's no

fear of the rest."

About noon, he went to see how Jack was doing his duty, and what did he

find but Jack asleep with his face to the sod, Browney grazing near a

thorn-tree, one end of a long rope round her horns, and the other end

round the tree, and the rest of the beasts all trampling and eating the

green wheat. Down came the switch on Jack.

"Jack, you vagabone, do you see what the cows are at?"

"And do you blame, master?"

"To be sure, you lazy sluggard, I do?"

"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, master. You said if I

only kept Browney out of mischief, the rest would do no harm. There she

is as harmless as a lamb. Are you sorry for hiring me, master?"

"To be--that is, not at all. I'll give you your money when you go to

dinner. Now, understand me; don't let a cow go out of the field nor

into the wheat the rest of the day."

"Never fear, master!" and neither did he. But the churl would rather

than a great deal he had not hired him.

The next day three heifers were missing, and the master bade Jack go in

search of them.

"Where will I look for them?" said Jack.

"Oh, every place likely and unlikely for them all to be in."

The churl was getting very exact in his words. When he was coming into

the bawn at dinner-time, what work did he find Jack at but pulling

armfuls of the thatch off the roof, and peeping into the holes he was

making?

"What are you doing there, you rascal?"