An’ awa’ he went about his business.

Well, she were that frightened.  She’d allus been such a gatless gal, that she didn’t se much as know how to spin, an’ what were she to dew to-morrer, with no one to come nigh her to help her?  She sat down on a stool in the kitchen, and lork! how she did cry!

Howsivir, all on a sudden she hard a sort of a knockin’ low down on the door.  She upped and oped it, an’ what should she see but a small little black thing with a long tail.  That looked up at her right kewrious, an’ that said: 

“What are yew a-cryin’ for?”

“Wha’s that to yew?” says she.

“Niver yew mind,” that said, “but tell me what you’re a cryin’ for.”

“That oon’t dew me noo good if I dew,” says she.

“Yew doon’t know that,” that said, an’ twirled that’s tail round.

“Well,” says she, “that oon’t dew no harm, if that doon’t dew no good,” and she upped and told about the pies an’ the skeins an’ everything.

“This is what I’ll dew,” says the little black thing:  “I’ll come to yar winder iv’ry mornin’ an’ take the flax an’ bring it spun at night”

“What’s your pay?” says she.

That looked out o’ the corners o’ that’s eyes an’ that said:  “I’ll give you three guesses every night to guess my name, an’ if you hain’t guessed it afore the month’s up, yew shall be mine.”

Well, she thowt she’d be sure to guess that’s name afore the month was up.  “All right,” says she, “I agree.”

“All right,” that says, an’ lork! how that twirled that’s tail.

Well, the next day, har husband, he took her inter the room, an’ there was the flax an’ the day’s vittles.

“Now, there’s the flax,” says he, “an’ if that ain’t spun up this night, off goo yar hid.”  An’ then he went out an’ locked the door.

He’d hardly goon, when there was a knockin’ agin the winder.

She upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little oo’d thing a settin’ on the ledge.

“Where’s the flax?” says he.

“Here te be,” says she.  And she gonned it to him.

Well, come the evenin’, a knockin’ come agin to the winder.  She upped an’ she oped it, and there were the little oo’d thing, with five skeins of flax on his arm.

“Here te be,” says he, an’ he gonned it to her.

“Now, what’s my name?” says he.

“What, is that Bill?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he.  An’ he twirled his tail.

“Is that Ned?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he.  An’ he twirled his tail.

“Well, is that Mark?” says she.

“Noo, that ain’t,” says he.  An’ he twirled his tail harder, an’ awa’ he flew.

Well, when har husban’ he come in, there was the five skeins riddy for him.

“I see I shorn’t hev for to kill you to-night, me dare,” says he.  “You’ll hev yar vittles and yar flax in the mornin’,” says he, an’ away he goes.