Soon as Tom could see again the tiddy creature was gone,
and but for the stone on end and the hole at his feet, he'd have thought
he'd been dreaming.
Well, Tom went home and to bed; and by the morning he'd nigh forgot all
about it. But when he went to the work, there was none to do! all was
done already, the horses seen to, the stables cleaned out, everything in
its proper place, and he'd nothing to do but sit with his hands in his
pockets. And so it went on day after day, all the work done by Yallery
Brown, and better done, too, than he could have done it himself. And if
the master gave him more work, he sat down, and the work did itself, the
singeing irons, or the broom, or what not, set to, and with ne'er a hand
put to it would get through in no time. For he never saw Yallery Brown
in daylight; only in the darklins he saw him hopping about, like a
Will-o-th'-wyke without his lanthorn.
At first 't was mighty fine for Tom; he'd nought to do and good pay for
it; but by-and-by things began to grow vicey-varsy.
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