“‘Twere back-end o’ t’ yeer,” he continued at last, “an’ t’ lads had gone into t’ woods to gether hesel-nuts an’ accorns.  There were a two-three big lads amang ’em, but most on ’em were lile uns, an’ yan were lame i’ t’ leg.  They called him Doed o’ Billy’s o’ Claypit Lane.  Well, t’ lads had gotten a seet o’ nuts, an’ then they set off home as fast as they could gan, for ‘twere gettin’ a bit dosky i’ t’ wood.  But lile Doed couldn’t keep up wi’ t’ other lads on account o’ his gam leg.  So t’ lads kept hollain’ out to him to look sharp an’ skift hissen, or he’d get left behind.  So Doed lowped alang as fast as he were able, but he couldn’t catch up t’ other lads, choose what he did, an’ all t’ time t’ leet were fadin’ out o’ t’ sky.  At lang length he thowt he saw yan o’ t’ lads waitin’ for him under an oak, but when he’d gotten alangside o’ him, he fan’ it were a lad that he’d niver clapped een on afore.  He were no bigger nor Doed, but ’twere gey hard to tell how owd he were; and he’d a fearful queer smell about him; ‘twere just as though he’d taen t’ juices out o’ all t’ trees o’ t’ wood an’ smeared ’em ower his body.  But what capped all were t’ clothes he was donned in; they were covered wi’ green moss, an’ on his heead was a cap o’ red fur.

“Well, when Doed saw him, he was a bit flaid, but t’ lad looked at him friendly-like and says: 

“‘Now then, Doed, wheer ista boun’?’

“‘I’s boun’ home,’ says Doed, an’ his teeth started ditherin’ wi’ freet.

“‘Well, I’s gannin thy ways,’ says t’ lad, ’so, if thou likes, thou can coom alang wi’ me.  Thou’ll happen not have seen me afore, but I can tell who thou is by t’ way thou favvours thy mother.  Thou’ll have heerd tell o’ thy uncle, Ned Bowker, that lives ower by Sally Abbey; he’s my father, so I reckon thou an’ me’s cousins.’

“Now Doed had heerd his mother tell about his Uncle Ned, an’ when t’ lad said that Ned Bowker were his father, he gat a bit aisier in his mind; but for all that he didn’t altogether like t’ looks o’ him.  Howiver, they gat agate o’ talkin’, and Doed let on that he were fearful fain o’ squirrels.  You see, he kept all nations o’ wild birds an’ wild animals down at his house; he’d linnets an’ nanpies i’ cages, and an ark full o’ pricky-back urchins.  But he’d niver catched a squirrel; they were ower wick for him, an’ he wanted a squirrel more nor owt else i’ t’ world.

“When Melsh Dick heard that—­for o’ course t’ lad was Melsh Dick hissen—­he said that if Doed would coom wi’ him, he’d sooin gie him what he wanted.  He’d bin climmin’ t’ trees an’ had catched a squirrel an’ putten it i’ t’ basket he’d browt his dinner in.