Collected Folk Tales. Alan Garner
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up in my face as bold as ever was.
“Tom,” it says, “you’re a good lad.”
As cool as you can think, it says, “Tom, you’re a good lad,” and its voice was soft and high and piping like a little bird twittering.
I touched my hat, and began to think what I had ought to say; but I was clemmed with fright, and I couldn’t open my gob.
“Houts!” says the thing again. “You needn’t be feared of me; you’ve done me a better turn than you know, my lad, and I’ll do as much for you.”
I couldn’t speak yet, but I thought: “Lord! For sure it’s a bogle!”
“No!” it says, quick as quick, “I’m not a bogle, but you’d best not ask me what I am; anyways, I’m a good friend of yours.”
My very knee-bones struck, for certainly an ordinary body couldn’t have known what I’d been thinking to myself, but it looked so kind like, and spoke so fair, that I made bold to get out, a bit quavery like:
“Might I be asking to know your honour’s name?”
“Hm,” it says, pulling its beard, “as for that,” and it thought a bit, “ay so,” it went on at last, “Yallery Brown you may call me; Yallery Brown. It’s my nature, you see. And as for a name, it will do as well as any other. Yallery Brown, Tom, Yallery Brown’s your friend, my lad.”
“Thank you, master,” says I, quite meek like.
“And now,” he says, “I’m in a hurry tonight, but tell me quick, what shall I do for you? Will you have a wife? I can give you the rampingest lass in the town. Will you be rich? I’ll give you gold as much as you can carry. Or will you have help with your work? Only say the word.”
I scratched my head. “Well, as for a wife, I have no hankering after such. They’re but bothersome bodies, and I have women folk to home as will mend my clouts. And for gold; that’s as may be,” for, you see, I thought he was talking only, and may be he couldn’t do as much as he said, “but for work – there, I can’t abide work, and if you’ll give me a helping hand in it, I’ll thank you.”
“Stop,” says he, quick as lightning. “I’ll help you, and welcome, but if ever you say that to me – if ever you thank me, do you see? – you’ll never see me more. Mind that now. I want no thanks, I’ll have no thanks, do you hear?” And he stamped his tiddy foot on the earth and looked as wicked as a raging bull.
“Mind that now, great lump as you be,” he went on, calming down a bit, “and if ever you need help, or get into trouble, call on me and just say, ‘Yallery Brown, come from the mools, I want thee!’ and I shall be with you to once. And now,” says he, picking up a dandelion puff, “good night to you.” And he blowed it up, and it all came in my eyes and ears.
Soon as I could see again, the tiddy creature was gone, and but for the stone on end, and the hole at my feet, I’d have thought I’d been dreaming.
Well, I went home and to bed, and by the morning I’d near forgot all about it. But when I went to the work, there was none to do! All was done already! The horses seen to, the stables cleaned out, everything in its proper place, and I’d nowt to do but sit with my hands in my pockets.
And so it went on day after day, all the work done by Yallery Brown, and better done, too, than I could have done it myself. And if the master gave me more work, I sat down by, and the work did itself, the singeing irons, or the besom, or what not, set to, and with never a hand put to them would get through in no time. For I never saw Yallery Brown in daylight; only in the darklins I have seen him hopping about, like a will-o-the-wyke without his lanthorn.
To first, it was mighty fine for me. I’d nowt to do, and good pay for it; but by and by, things began to go arsy-varsy. If the work was done for me, it was undone for the other lads. If my buckets were filled, theirs were upset. If my tools were sharpened, theirs were blunted and spoiled. If my horses were clean as daisies, theirs were splashed with muck. And so on. Day in, day out, it was always the same. And the lads saw Yallery Brown flitting about of nights, and they saw the things working without hands of days, and they saw as my work was done for me, and theirs undone for them, and naturally they began to look shy on me, and they wouldn’t speak or come near me, and they carried tales to the master, and so things went from bad to worse.
For – do you see? – I could do nothing myself. The brooms wouldn’t stay in my hand, the plough ran away from me, the hoe kept out of my grip. I’d thought oft as I’d do my own work after all, so as may be Yallery Brown would leave me and my neighbours alone. But I couldn’t. I could only sit by and look on, and have the cold shoulder turned on me, whiles the unnatural thing was meddling with the others, and working for me.
To last, things got so bad that the master gave me the sack, and if he hadn’t, I do believe as all the rest of the lads would have sacked him, for they swore as they’d not stay on the same garth with me. Well, naturally I felt bad. It was a main good place, and good pay, too; and I was fair mad with Yallery Brown, as had got me into such a trouble. So before I knew, I shook my fist in the air and called out as loud as I could:
“Yallery Brown, come from the mools; thou scamp, I want thee!”
You’ll scarce believe it, but I’d hardly brung out the words as I felt something tweaking my leg behind, while I jumped with the smart of it. And soon as I looked down, there was the tiddy thing, with his shining hair, and wrinkled face, and wicked, glinting black eyes.
I was in a fine rage, and should liked to have kicked him, but it was no good, there wasn’t enough of him to get my boot against.
But I said to once: “Look here, master, I’ll thank you to leave me alone after this, do you hear? I want none of your help, and I’ll have nowt more to do with you – see now.”
The horrid thing brak out with a screeching laugh, and pointed his brown finger at me.
“Ho ho, Tom!” says he. “You’ve thanked me, my lad, and I told you not, I told you not!”
“I don’t want your help, I tell you!” I yelled at him. “I only want never to see you again, and to have nowt more to do with you. You can go!”
The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked, as long as I went on swearing, but so soon as my breath gave out, “Tom, my lad,” he says, with a grin, “I’ll tell you summat, Tom. True’s true I’ll never help you again, and call as you will, you’ll never see me after today; but I never said as I’d leave you alone, Tom, and I never will, my lad! I was nice and safe under the stone, Tom, and could do no harm; but you let me out yourself, and you can’t put me back again! I would have been your friend and worked for you if you had been wise; but since you are no more than a born fool, I’ll give you no more than a born fool’s luck; and when all goes arsy-varsy, and everything agee – you’ll mind as it’s Yallery Brown’s doing, though happen you didn’t see him. Mark my words, will you?”
And he began to sing, dancing round me, like a bairn with his yaller hair, but looking older nor ever with his grinning wrinkled bit of a face:
“Work as you will,
“You’ll never do well;
“Work as you might,
“You’ll never gain owt:
“For harm and mischief and Yallery Brown
“You’ve let out yourself from under the stone.”
Ay! He said those very words, and they have ringed in my ears ever since, over and over again, like a bell tolling for the burying. And it was the burying of my luck – for I never had any since. However, the imp stood there mocking and grinning at me, and chuckling like the old devil’s own wicked self.
And man! – I can’t rightly mind what he said next. It was all cussing and swearing and calling down misfortune on me; but I was so mazed in fright that I could only stand there, shaking all over me, and staring down at the horrid