"I don't want thy help, I tell thee," Tom yelled at him—"I only want never to see thee again, and to have nought more to do with ee—thou can go."
The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked, as long as Tom went on swearing, but so soon as his breath gave out—
"Tom, my lad," he said with a grin, "I'll tell 'ee summat, Tom. True's true I'll never help thee again, and call as thou wilt, thou'lt never see me after to-day; but I never said that I'd leave thee alone, Tom, and I never will, my lad! I was nice and safe under the stone, Tom, and could do no harm; but thou let me out thyself, and thou can't put me back again! I would have been thy friend and worked for thee if thou had been wise; but since thou bee'st no more than a born fool I'll give 'ee no more than a born fool's luck; and when all goes vice-varsy, and everything agee—thou'lt mind that its Yallery Brown's doing though m'appen thou doesn't see him. Mark my words, will 'ee?"
And he began to sing, dancing round Tom, like a bairn with his yellow hair, but looking older than ever with his grinning wrinkled bit of a face:
"Work as thou will
Thou'lt never do well;
Work as thou mayst
Thou'lt never gain grist;
For harm and mischance and Yallery Brown
Thou'st let out thyself from under the stone."
Tom could never rightly mind what he said next. 'Twas all cussing and calling down misfortune on him; but he was so mazed in fright that he could only stand there shaking all over, and staring down at the horrid
