‘Where’d the ship a’ been yesterday if it hadna been for me? What a lad!—maundering off on lonesome in lambing-time!’ ‘Well, it inna often as the lad takes dog’s leave, be it?’ ‘It minds me of the tale of poor Joey Linny, poor soul. He was used to go wandering about, and onst he come unbeknownst into a triple fairy-ring, and they got ’im. Ah! they seyn it were like that in times gone. Folk burnt witches then, and ducked ’em, and dear knows what. And things was different. Any road, the fairies cotched poor Joey Linn…
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