“Ay, and I, as I said before, have sewed a sprig of the mountain-ash into his collar,” said the good woman, “which will avail more than your clerkship, I wus; but for all that, it is ill to seek the devil or his mates either.”
“My good boy,” said Tressilian, who saw, from a grotesque sneer on Dickie’s face, that he was more likely to act upon his own bottom than by the instruction of his elders, “I will give thee a silver groat, my pretty fellow, if you will but guide me to this man’s forge.”
The boy gave him a knowing side-look, which seemed to promise acquiescence, while at the same time he exclaimed, “I be your guide to Wayland Smith’s! Why, man, did I not say that the devil might fly off with me, just as the kite there” (looking to the window) “is flying off with one of grandam’s chicks?”
“The kite! the kite!” exclaimed the old woman in return, and forgetting all other matters in her alarm, hastened to the rescue of her chicken as fast as her old legs could carry her.
“Now for it,” said the urchin to Tressilian; “snatch your beaver, get out your horse, and have at the silver groat you spoke of.”
“Nay, but tarry, tarry,” said the preceptor, «Sufflamina, Ricarde!”
“Tarry yourself,” said Dickie, “and think what answer you are to make to granny for sending me post to the devil.”
The teacher, aware of the responsibility he was incurring, bustled up in great haste to lay hold of
