Coat o' Clay


Once on a time, in the parts of Lindsey, there lived a wise woman. Some
said she was a witch, but they said it in a whisper, lest she should
overhear and do them a mischief, and truly it was not a thing one could
be sure of, for she was never known to hurt any one, which, if she were
a witch, she would have been sure to do. But she could tell you what
your sickness was, and how to cure it with herbs, and she could mix rare
possets that would drive the pain out of you in a twinkling; and she
could advise you what to do if your cows were ill, or if you'd got into
trouble, and tell the maids whether their sweethearts were likely to be
faithful.

But she was ill-pleased if folks questioned her too much or too long,
and she sore misliked fools. A many came to her asking foolish things,
as was their nature, and to them she never gave counsel--at least of a
kind that could aid them much.

Well, one day, as she sat at her door paring potatoes, over the stile
and up the path came a tall lad with a long nose and goggle eyes and his
hands in his pockets.

"That's a fool, if ever was one, and a fool's luck in his face," said
the wise woman to herself with a nod of her head, and threw a potato
skin over her left shoulder to keep off ill-chance.