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Updated: May 13, 2025
'So many folks, so many ways o' thinkin', said the ancient one; 'not as it's a sin as I often commits, nayther, 'cos why, I don't get the chance. 'I've got a bit o' business as I want done, Mr. Bubb, said Mrs. Busker, 'if ye don't mind earnin' a shillin'. 'Why, returned Ichabod, 'I don't know as I've got any, not to say rewted, objection to makin' a shillin'.
If story-books were few and far between, the sentimental foolish widow, Jenny Busker, was a mine of narrative, and a single fairy tale is enough to open all other fairy lore to a child's imagination. If the little girl worshipped the boy, he, in his turn, looked kindly down on her. He had fought for her once at odds of two to one, and he gave her a smile now and then.
"That be a bit of nonsense! Your father has had a taking to the sea all his life; and he never could abide to be boxed up on land. Aw, my dear, John Penelles is a busker of a fisherman! The storm never yet did blow that down-daunted him!
Theer, tek your bonnet off, an' I'll gi' ye a cup o' tay, an' then you can goo upstairs wi' me and see the wench. Mrs. Jenny gratefully accepted the proffered tea, and, having drunk it, much to her inward refreshment, accompanied Mrs. Mountain upstairs. As the latter had said, the girl was sleeping still, and Mrs. Busker saw that her position had not changed by a hair's breadth.
'The hingredients, he said, 'is hard to find, and harder to mix in doo perportions. 'I must have it now, and at once, said Mrs. Busker. 'That, said Rufus, 'ain't possible. Mrs. Jenny laid a second piece of gold beside the first 'It's a dangerous bisness, missus, he went on. 'Theer's noofangled laws about.
She exchanged one quick glance of intelligence with the widow as she left the room. The old woman had done her errand, and Julia knew where to seek her lover. She found her hat in the hall, and slipped out by the back way, after directing the servant to take in the required refreshment to Mrs. Busker.
'Why, yis; I could do that much, I think. His tone and manner intimated vaguely how much more he could have done, and his disappointment at the facility of his task. 'But, he added prudently, 'it's a job as ain't s' easy as you might fancy. Mrs. Busker laid a sovereign on the table. 'Wilt do it for that? she asked. The wizard stole a look at her. She was obviously very much in earnest.
Then, as was natural, he turned to the family feud, and retailed all he had heard from Ichabod, supplemented by information from other quarters and such additions of fancy as imaginative children and savages are sure to weave about the fabric of any story which comes in their way to make tradition generally the trustworthy thing it is. Mrs. Busker was strong on the family quarrel.
To his childish sense the incongruity of one gifted with demoniac powers being helpless to prevent the depredations of his own domestic animal did not appeal. As for Mrs. Jenny, she had piously believed in witchcraft all her life, and was quite as insensible to the absurdity as he. 'I want you to look at this young gentleman's hands, said Mrs. Busker. 'He's got warts that bad.
I suppose you can charm 'em away for him? Appealed to on a point of his art, the wizard's air changed altogether. He assumed an aspect of wooden majesty. 'Why, yis, he said. 'I think I'm equal to that Step inside, mum, and bring the young gentleman with you. 'Couldn't you Mrs. Busker hesitatingly began, 'couldn't you do it outside?
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