[XXVIII.]
The wee Bannock.
There was an old man who had an old wife, and they lived by the side of a hill. They had two cows, five hens and a cock, a cat and two kittens. The old man looked after the cows whilst the old woman knitted stockings for him, and when she let her ball of yarn fall the kittens sprang upon it, and after it as it rolled away, till it got twisted round all the legs of the chairs and of the table, so that the old woman had plenty to do without knitting the stockings.
One day, after breakfast, she thought she would have a bannock, so she made two oatmeal bannocks and put them to the fire to bake. After a while the old man came in and sat down by the side of the fire, and when he saw the bannocks he took up one and snapped it through the middle. No sooner did the other see this than off it ran as fast as it could, and the old woman after it; but the wee bannock ran away and out of sight, and ran till it came to a pretty large thatched house, into which it ran boldly up to the fire-side. There were three tailors sitting on a table, and when they saw the wee bannock come in they jumped up and off the table, and ran behind the good wife who was carding tow on the other side of the fire.
“Be not afraid,” she cried, “it’s only a wee bannock. Catch it, and I’ll give you a basin of milk with it.”
Up she gets with the tow-cards, and the tailor with the goose, and the two apprentices: the one with the shears and the other with the sleeve-board, but it eluded them all. The one apprentice made a snap at it with the shears, but he fell into the ash-pit. The tailor threw the goose and his wife the tow-cards; but it wouldn’t do; the bannock got away and ran till it came to a little house by the road-side, into which it ran. There was a weaver sitting on his loom, and his wife was winding a skein of yarn.
“Kitty,” said he, “what’s that?” “Oh,” said she, “it’s a wee bannock.” “It’s welcome,” said he, “for our pottage was rather thin to-day. Catch hold of it, my Girl; catch it.” “Yes, that I will,” said she. “How now! why that’s a clever bannock. Stop it, Willie; stop it, Man.” But it wouldn’t be stopped, and away it went over the hillock and ran into the nearest house, straight up to the fire-side. There was the good wife churning, and she said, “Come along, my wee Bannock. I have cream, but no bread.” However the bannock dodged round the churn, and she after it, till she nearly upset the churn, and before she could steady it the wee bannock was off, down by the side of the stream into the mill.
The miller was sifting meal; but when he looked up and saw the bannock, he said, “It’s a sign of plenty when you’re running about like that and no one to look after you. But I like a bannock and cheese, so come here, and I’ll give you a night’s lodging.” But the bannock wouldn’t trust itself with the miller and his cheese, so it turned and ran out again, and the miller didn’t trouble himself about it.
This time it rolled on gently till it came to a smithy, and in it ran up to the anvil. The smith, who was making horse-nails, said, “I like a stoup of good ale and a well-toasted bannock, so you are just the thing for me.” But the bannock was frightened when it heard him talk of the ale, so it ran off as hard as it could split, and the smith after it, but all to no purpose; for it was out of sight in a crack, and it ran on till it came to a farm-house. In it went up to the fire-side, where the farmer was plaiting straw ropes. “Why, Janet,” he cried, “here’s a bannock. I’ll have the half of’t.” “Well, John, and I the other half.” But neither could get hold of it, and off it was, up one side of the hill and down the other, to the nearest house, and in it went up to the fire.