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.

“Good-day, missis,” said the fool.  “I be come to see thee.”

“So thou art,” said the wise woman; “I see that.  How’s all in thy folk this year?”

“Oh, fairly,” answered he.  “But they say I be a fool.”

“Ay, so thou art,” nodded she, and threw away a bad potato.  “I see that too.  But wouldst o’ me?  I keep no brains for sale.”

“Well, see now.  Mother says I’ll ne’er be wiser all my born days; but folks tell us thou canst do everything.  Can’t thee teach me a bit, so they’ll think me a clever fellow at home?”

“Hout-tout!” said the wise woman; “thou ’rt a bigger fool than I thought.  Nay, I can’t teach thee nought, lad; but I tell thee summat.  Thou ‘lt be a fool all thy days till thou gets a coat o’ clay; and then thou ’lt know more than me.”

“Hi, missis; what sort of a coat’s that?” said he.

“That’s none o’ my business,” answered she, “Thou ’st got to find out that.”

And she took up her potatoes and went into her house.

The fool took off his cap and scratched his head.

“It’s a queer kind of coat to look for, sure-ly,” said he, “I never heard of a coat o’ clay.  But then I be a fool, that’s true.”

So he walked on till he came to the drain near by, with just a pickle of water and a foot of mud in it.

“Here’s muck,” said the fool, much pleased, and he got in and rolled in it spluttering.  “Hi, yi!” said he—­for he had his mouth full—­“I’ve got a coat o’ clay now to be sure.  I’ll go home and tell my mother I’m a wise man and not a fool any longer.”  And he went on home.

Presently he came to a cottage with a lass at the door.

“Morning, fool,” said she; “hast thou been ducked in the horse-pond?”

“Fool yourself,” said he, “the wise woman says I’ll know more ’n she when I get a coat o’ clay, and here it is.  Shall I marry thee, lass?”

“Ay,” said she, for she thought she’d like a fool for a husband, “when shall it be?”

“I’ll come and fetch thee when I’ve told my mother,” said the fool, and he gave her his lucky penny and went on.

When he got home his mother was on the doorstep.

“Mother, I ‘ve got a coat o’ clay,” said he.

“Coat o’ muck,” said she; “and what of that?”

“Wise woman said I’d know more than she when I got a coat o’ clay,” said he, “so I down in the drain and got one, and I’m not a fool any longer.”