The cottar’s wife was one day melting some tallow in a large tea-pot, which after using she left by the fire-side; and that night, when every one was in bed, pussy, who had been dying all day to know what was inside that tea-pot, “pirled” off the lid and popped her imprudent head in. Alas! she never got it out again. About midnight the honest couple—snug in bed—were awakened by a dreadful clattering noise in the kitchen, along the passage, and on the stair.
“Geordie, Geordie! rise and see,” said the good wife, nudging her goodman.
“Jean, Jean! rise and see yersel’,” said he, nudging her in turn.
“It’s Hallow E’en, Geordie,” cried Jean; “and there is a deil, or deils rather, in the house, I ken.” For the reader must bear in mind that, though banished from English soil, fairies, bogles, and all that ilk, still linger among the breckans of our Scottish glades and glens; and annually on the night of 31st October, they play a thousand pranks under the direct supervision of the archfiend himself. This superstition proved fatal to poor puss. Gradually the noise got less, and soon ceased entirely. Next morning, the cottar’s wife was up betimes and downstairs. She soon returned, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly.
“Oh! Geordie,” she cried; “come doon and see what the deil has done to our poor pussy.”
CHAPTER XXI.
[See [Note T], Addenda.]
THE MILLER’S FRIEND—A TALE.