Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:
‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’
Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.
Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.
‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’
On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.
Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right, she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’
The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.
But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.
‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.