*

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

…All on a sudden she heard a sort of 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.

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