"Well," said he, "that's the very spot wheer Gerzlehus' Boggart's buried."
My thoughts had so drifted away in another direction, that I was not prepared for such an announcement as this. I was aware that the inhabitants of that district clung to many of the superstitions of their forefathers; but the thing came upon me so unexpectedly, and when my mind was so quietly absorbed in dreams of another sort, that, if the old man had fired off a pistol close to my ear, I should not have been much more astonished; though I might have been more startled. All that I had been thinking of vanished at once; and my curiosity was centred in this new phase of the old man's story. I looked into his face to see whether he really meant what he had said; but there it was, sure enough. In every outward feature he endorsed the sincerity of his inward feeling. His countenance was as solemn as an unlettered gravestone.
"Grislehurst Boggart;" said I, looking towards the place once more.
"Ay;" replied he. "That's wheer it wur laid low; an' some of a job it wur. Yo happen never yerd on't afore."
The old woman now took up the story, with more earnestness even than her husband.
"It's a good while sin it wur laid; an' there wur a cock buried wi' it, with a stoop[42] driven through it. It're noan sattle't with a little; aw'll uphowd yo."
"And dun you really think, then," said I, "that this place has been haunted by a boggart?"
"Has bin—be far!" replied she. "It is neaw! Yodd'n soon find it eawt, too, iv yo live't upo' th' spot. It's very mich if it wouldn't may yor yure ston of an end; oathur wi' one marlock or another.[43] There's noan so mony folk at likes to go deawn yon lone, at after delit,[44] aw con tell yo."
"But, if it's laid and buried," replied I, "it surely doesn't trouble you now."
"Oh, well," said the old woman, "iv it doesn't, it doesn't; so there needs no moor. Aw know some folk winnot believe sich things; there is at'll believe nought at o', iv it isn't fair druvven into 'em, wilto, shalto;[45] but this is a different case, mind yo. Eh, never name it; thoose at has it to deeol wi' knows what it is; but thoose at knows nought abeawt sich like—whau, it's like summat an' nought talkin' to 'em abeawt it: so we'n e'en lap it up where it is."