The History of David Grieve | Page 9

stuffed her into a fish's skin and sewed 'er up; an when yo went close yo could see t' stuffin runnin out of her. An theer was a man as held 'er up by a wire roun her waist, an waggled her i' t' watter. But t' foak as had paid sixpence to coom in, they just took an tore down t' place, an they'd 'a dookt t' man an t' gell boath, if th' coonstable hadn't coom. Naw, mermaids is faddle,' he repeated contemptuously.
'Faddle?' repeated 'Lias, interrogatively.
The children started. They has supposed 'Lias was of doting and talking gibberish for the rest of the morning. But his tone was brisk and as David looked up he caught a queer flickering brightness in the old man's eye, which showed him that 'Lias was once more capable of furnishing amusement or information.
'What do they coe that bit watter, 'Lias?' he inquired, pointing to it.
'That bit watter?' repeated 'Lias, eyeing it. A sort of vague trouble came into his face, and his wrinkled hands lying on his stick began to twitch nervously.
'Aye--theer's a Manchester man been cramming Wigsons wi tales--says he gets 'em out of a book--'bout a woman 'at walks t' Scout Easter Eve neet,--an a lot o' ninny-hommer's talk. Yo niver heer now about it--did yo, 'Lias?'
'Yes, yo did, Mr. Dawson--now, didn't yo?' said Louis, persuasively, enraged that David would never accept information from her, while she was always expected to take it from him.
'A woman--'at walks t' Scout,' said 'Lias, uncertainly, flushing as he spoke.
Then, looking tremulously from his companions to the pool, he said, angrily raising his stick and shaking it at David, 'Davy, yo're takin advantage--Davy, yo're doin what yo owt not. If my Margret were here, she'd let yo know!'
The words rose into a cry of quavering passion. The children stared at him in amazement. But as Davy, aggrieved, was defending himself, the old man laid a violent hand on his arm and silenced him. His eyes, which were black and keen still in the blanched face, were riveted on the gleaming pool. His features worked as though under the stress of some possessing force; a shiver ran through the emaciated limbs.
'Oh! yo want to know abeawt Jenny Crum's pool, do yo?' he said at last in a low agitated voice. 'Nobbut look, my lad!--nobbut look! --an see for yoursen.'
He paused, his chest heaving, his eye fixed. Then, suddenly, he broke out in a flood of passionate speech, still gripping David.
'Passon Maine! Passon Maine!--ha yo got her, th' owd woman? Aye, aye--sure enough--'at's she--as yo're aw drivin afore yo--hoontit like a wild beeast--wi her grey hair streamin, and her hands tied--Ah!'--and the old man gave a wild cry, which startled both the children to their feet. 'Conno yo hear her?--eh, but it's enough to tear a body's heart out to hear an owd woman scream like that!'
He stopped, trembling, and listened, his hand hollowed to his ear. Louie looked at her brother and laughed nervously; but her little hard face had paled. David laid hold of her to keep her quiet, and shook himself free of 'Lias. But 'Lias took no notice of them now at all, his changed seer's gaze saw nothing but the distance and the pool.
'Are yo quite sure it wor her, Passon?' he went on, appealingly. 'She's nobbut owd, an it's a far cry fro her bit cottage to owd Needham's Farm. An th' chilt might ha deed, and t' cattle might ha strayed, and t' geyats might ha opened o' theirsels! Yo'll not dare to speak agen that. They might? Ay, ay, we aw know t' devil's strong; but she's eighty-one year coom Christmas--an an--. Doan't, doan't let t' childer see, nor t' yoong gells! If yo let em see sich seets they'll breed yo wolves, not babes! Ah!'
And again 'Lias gave the same cry, and stood half risen, his hands on his staff, looking.
'What is it, 'Lias?' said David, eagerly; 'what is 't yo see?'
'Theer's my grandfeyther,' said 'Lias, almost in a whisper, 'an owd Needham an his two brithers, an yoong Jack Needham's woife--her as losst her babby--an yoong lads an lasses fro Clough End, childer awmost, and t' coonstable, an Passon Maine--Ay--ay--yo've doon it! Yo've doon it! She'll mak naw moor mischeef neets--she's gay quiet now! T' watter's got her fasst enough!'
And, drawing himself up to his full height, the old man pointed a quivering finger at the pool.
'Ay, it's got her--an your stones are tied fasst! Passon Maine says she's safe--that yo'll see her naw moor--While holly sticks be green, While stone on Kinder Scoot be seen.
But I tell yo, Passon Maine lees! I tell yo t' witch ull walk--t' witch ull walk!'
For several seconds 'Lias stood straining forward--out of himself--a tragic and impressive figure. Then, in