Priscilla of the Good Intent: A Romance of the Grey Fells

PRISCILLA OF THE GOOD INTENT A ROMANCE OF THE GREY FELLS
BY HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE Author of “Mistress Barbara,” “Benedick in Arcady,” etc.
BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1909
Copyright, 1908 , By Halliwell Sutcliffe. Copyright, 1909 , By Little, Brown, and Company. All rights reserved Printers S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, U.S.A.
PRISCILLA OF THE GOOD INTENT
THE blacksmith’s forge stood just this side of the village as you entered it from Shepston, and David Blake, the smith, was blowing lustily at his bellows, while the sweat dripped down his face. The cool of a spring morning came through the doorway, against which leaned a heavy, slouching lad.
“Te-he, David the Smith! Sparks do go scrambling up chimney,” said Billy the Fool, with a fat and empty laugh.
They called him Billy the Fool, for old affection’s sake, with no sense of reproach; for the old ways of thought had a fast hold on Garth village, and a natural was held in a certain awe, as being something midway between a prophet and a child.
“Ay, sparks are scrambling up. ’Tis a way they have, Billy,” answered the other cheerily. “What’s your news?”
Again Billy laughed, but cunningly this time. “Grand news—all about myself. Was up at sunrise, and been doing naught ever since. I’m main fond of doing naught, David. Seems to trickle down your body, does idleness, like good ale.”
The blacksmith loosed his hold on the bellows’ handles and turned about, while he passed a hand across his forehead.
“Is there nought ye like better than idleness?” he asked. “Think now, Billy—just ponder over it.”