The Crock of Gold by James Stephens (black female authors TXT) 📗
- Author: James Stephens
Book online «The Crock of Gold by James Stephens (black female authors TXT) 📗». Author James Stephens
“Will you never be done talking?” shouted the Thin Woman passionately.
“I will not,” said the Philosopher. “In certain ways sleep is useful. It is an excellent way of listening to an opera or seeing pictures on a bioscope. As a medium for day-dreams I know of nothing that can equal it. As an accomplishment it is graceful, but as a means of spending a night it is intolerably ridiculous. If you were going to say anything, my love, please say it now, but you should always remember to think before you speak. A woman should be seen seldom but never heard. Quietness is the beginning of virtue. To be silent is to be beautiful. Stars do not make a noise. Children should always be in bed. These are serious truths, which cannot be controverted; therefore, silence is fitting as regards them.”
“Your stirabout is on the hob,” said the Thin Woman. “You can get it for yourself. I would not move the breadth of my nail if you were dying of hunger. I hope there’s lumps in it. A Leprecaun from Gort na Cloca Mora was here to-day. They’ll give it to you for robbing their pot of gold. You old thief, you! you lobeared, crock-kneed fat-eye!”
The Thin Woman whizzed suddenly from where she stood and leaped into bed. From beneath the blanket she turned a vivid, furious eye on her husband. She was trying to give him rheumatism and toothache and lockjaw all at once. If she had been satisfied to concentrate her attention on one only of these torments she might have succeeded in afflicting her husband according to her wish, but she was not able to do that.
“Finality is death. Perfection is finality. Nothing is perfect. There are lumps in it,” said the Philosopher.
CHAPTER V
WHEN the Leprecaun came through the pine wood on the following day he met two children at a little distance from the house. He raised his open right hand above his head (this is both the fairy and the Gaelic form of salutation), and would have passed on but that a thought brought him to a halt. Sitting down before the two children he stared at them for a long time, and they stared back at him. At last he said to the boy:
“What is your name, a vic vig O?”
“Seumas Beg, sir,” the boy replied.
“It’s a little name,” said the Leprecaun.
“It’s what my mother calls me, sir,” returned the boy.
“What does your father call you,” was the next question.
“Seumas Roghan Maelduin O’Carbhail Mac an Droid.”
“It’s a big name,” said the Leprecaun, and he turned to the little girl. “What is your name, a cailin vig O?”
“Brigid Beg, sir.”
“And what does your father call you?”
“He never calls me at all, sir.”
“Well, Seumaseen and Breedeen, you are good little children, and I like you very much. Health be with you until I come to see you again.”
And then the Leprecaun went back the way he had come. As he went he made little jumps and cracked his fingers, and sometimes he rubbed one leg against the other.
“That’s a nice Leprecaun,” said Seumas.
“I like him too,” said Brigid.
“Listen,” said Seumas, “let me be the Leprecaun, and you be the two children, and I will ask you our names.”
So they did that.
The next day the Leprecaun came again. He sat down beside the children and, as before, he was silent for a little time.
“Are you not going to ask us our names, sir?” said Seumas.
His sister smoothed out her dress shyly. “My name, sir, is Brigid Beg,” said she.
“Did you ever play Jackstones?” said the Leprecaun.
“No, sir,” replied Seumas.
“I’ll teach you how to play Jackstones,” said the Leprecaun, and he picked up some pine cones and taught the children that game.
“Did you ever play Ball in the Decker?”
“No, sir,” said Seumas.
“Did you ever play ‘I can make a nail with my ree-roraddy-O, I can make a nail with my ree-ro-ray’?”
“No, sir,” replied Seumas.
“It’s a nice game,” said the Leprecaun, “and so is Capon-the-back, and Twenty-four yards on the Billy-goat’s Tail, and Towns, and Relievo, and Leap-frog. I’ll teach you all these games,” said the Leprecaun, “and I’ll teach you how to play Knifey, and Hole-and-taw, and Horneys and Robbers.
“Leap-frog is the best one to start with, so I’ll teach it to you at once. Let you bend down like this, Breedeen, and you bend down like that a good distance away, Seumas. Now I jump over Breedeen’s back, and then I run and jump over Seumaseen’s back like this, and then I run ahead again and I bend down. Now, Breedeen, you jump over your brother, and then you jump over me, and run a good bit on and bend down again. Now, Seumas, it’s your turn; you jump over me and then over your sister, and then you run on and bend down again and I jump.”
“This is a fine game, sir,” said Seumas.
“It is, a vic vig,—keep in your head,” said the Leprecaun. “That’s a good jump, you couldn’t beat that jump, Seumas.”
“I can jump better than Brigid already,” replied Seumas, “and I’ll jump as well as you do when I get more practice—keep in your head, sir.”
Almost without noticing it they had passed through the edge of the wood, and were playing into a rough field which was cumbered with big, grey rocks. It was the very last field in sight, and behind it the rough, heather-packed mountain sloped distantly away to the skyline. There was a raggedy blackberry hedge all round the field, and there were long, tough, haggard-looking plants growing in clumps here and there. Near a corner of this field there was a broad, low tree, and as they played they came near and nearer to it. The Leprecaun gave a back very close to the tree. Seumas ran and jumped and slid down a hole at the side of the tree. Then Brigid ran and jumped and slid down the same hole.
“Dear me!” said Brigid, and she flashed out of sight.
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