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A BOOK OF FOLK-LORE

have become fractious, deformed, and ill-favoured. His yelling every night deprived the whole family of rest; it bit at its mother’s breasts, and would lie still neither in the cradle nor in the arms. The mother being one day obliged to go from home, left it in the charge of the servant girl. The poor lass was sitting bemoaning herself: ‘Were it nae for thy girning face, I would knock the big, winnow the corn, and grun the meal.’ ‘Lowse the cradle-band,’ said the child, ‘and tent the neighbours, and I’ll work yere work.’ Up he started—the wind arose, the corn was chopped, the outlyers were foddered, the hand-mill moved round, as by instinct, and the knocking-mill did its work with amazing rapidity. The lass and the child then rested and diverted themselves till, on the approach of the mistress, it was restored to the cradle and renewed its cries. The girl took the mother aside and related to her what had happened. ‘What’ll we do with the wee deil?’ asked the mother. ‘I’ll work it a pirn,’ replied the lass. At midnight the chimney-top was covered up, and every chink and cranny stopped. The fire was blown till it was glowing hot, and the maid speedily undressed the child and tossed him on to the burning coals. He shrieked and yelled in the