"All right," says the woman; for she thowt what a grand marriage that was. And as for them five skeins, when te come tew, there'd be plenty o' ways of gettin' out of it, and likeliest, he'd ha' forgot about it.
Well, so they was married. An' for 'leven months the gal had all the vittles she liked to ate and all the gownds she liked to git, an' all the cumpny she liked to hev.
But when the time was gettin' oover, she began to think about them there skeins an' to wonder if he had 'em in mind. But not one word did he say about 'em, an' she whoolly thowt he'd forgot 'em.
Howsivir, the last day o' the last month he takes her to a room she'd niver set eyes on afore. There worn't nothin in it but a spinnin wheel and a stool. An' says he, "Now, me dear, hare yow'll be shut in to-morrow with some vittles and some flax, and if you hain't spun five skeins by the night, yar hid 'll goo off."
An' awa' he went about his business.
Well, she were that frightened, she'd alius been such a gatless mawther, that she didn't so 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 oont 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."