And Telka’s father, a wise old man, cautions Franco:
“Thee hadst best to take a warning, Franco. She be o’ the field and rooted there; and thee o’ the field, but reaped, and bound to free thee of the chaff by flailing of the world. She then would be to thee but straw and waste to cast awhither.”
But an understanding of the nature of this strange tale and its peculiar dialect requires a longer extract. The “Story of the Judge Bush” will serve, better perhaps than anything else, to convey an idea of the characters of Telka and Franco, as well as to illustrate the language; and the episode is interesting in itself. The dialogue opens with Telka, Franco and Marion on their way to Telka’s hut. Marion is Telka’s dearest friend, although one gets a contrary impression from Telka’s caustic remarks in this excerpt; but unlike Telka, she can understand and appreciate the poetic temperament of Franco. To show her contempt for Franco’s aspirations, Telka has taken his color pots and buried them in a dung-heap, and this characteristic act is the foundation of the “Story of the Judge Bush.”
(Franco) “Come, we do put us to a-dry. ’Tis sky aweep, and ’tis a gray day from now. I tell thee, Telka, we then put us to hearth, and spin ye shall. And thou, Marion, shalt bake an ash loaf and put o’ apples for to burst afore the fire. ’Tis chill, the whine-wind o’ the storm. We then shall spin a tale by turn; and Telka, lass, I plucked a sweet bloom for thee to wear. Thine eye hath softened, eh, my lass? Here, set thy nose herein and thou canst ne’er to think a tho’t besoured.”
(Telka) “Ah, ’tis a wise lad I wed, who spendeth o’ his stacking hours to pluck weed, and thee wouldst have me sniff the dung-dust from their leaf. Do cast them whither, and ’pon thy smock do wipe thy hand. It be my fancy for to waste the gray hours aside the fire’s glow,—but, Franco, see ye, the wee pigs asqueal! ’Tis nay liking the wet. Do fetch them hence. Here, Marion, cast my cape about thee, since thou dost wear thy pettiskirt and Sabboth smock. Gad! Blue maketh thee to match a plucked goose. Thy skin already hath seamed, I vow. And, Marion, ’tis ’deed a flash to me thy tress be red! Should I to bear a red top I’d cast it whither.”
(Franco) “Telka, Telka, drat thy barbed tung! Cast thou the bolt. Gad! What a scent o’ browning joint!”
(Telka) “Do leave me for to turn the spit that I may lick the finger-drip. Thy nose, Franco, doth trick thee. Thou canst sniff o’ dung-dust and scoff at drip. Go, roll the apples o’er in yonder pile. They then would suit thee well!”
(Franco) “Telka, I bid thee to wash away such tunging. Here, I set them so. Now do I to fetch thy wheel. Nay, Marion, do cast thy blush. ’Tis but the Telka witch. Do thou to start thee at thy tale aspin.”
(Telka) “Aye, Marion, thou then, since ne’er truth knoweth thee, thou shouldst ne’er to lack for story. Story do I say? Aye, or lie, ’tis brothers they be. And, Franco, do thou to spin, ’twill suit thy taste to feed ’pon maid’s fare. I be the spinner o’ the tale afirst. But, Franco, I fain would have thee fetch a pair o’ harkers. Didst deem to fret me that thee dumped the twain aneath the stack? Go thou and fetch. ’Tis well that thee shouldst bed with swine lest thee be preening for a swan.”
(Franco) “Ugh, Telka! Thou art like to a vat o’ wine awork. Thou’lt fetch the swine do ye seek to company them.”