"That's a fool, if ever was one, and a fool's luck in his face," said
the wise woman to herself with a nod of her head, and threw a potato
skin over her left shoulder to keep off ill-chance.
"Good-day, missis," said the fool. "I be come to see thee."
"So thou art," said the wise woman; "I see that. How's all in thy folk
this year?"
"Oh, fairly," answered he. "But they say I be a fool."
"Ay, so thou art," nodded she, and threw away a bad potato. "I see that
too. But wouldst o' me? I keep no brains for sale."
"Well, see now. Mother says I'll ne'er be wiser all my born days; but
folks tell us thou canst do everything. Can't thee teach me a bit, so
they'll think me a clever fellow at home?"
"Hout-tout!" said the wise woman; "thou 'rt a bigger fool than I
thought. Nay, I can't teach thee nought, lad; but I tell thee summat.
Thou 'lt be a fool all thy days till thou gets a coat o' clay; and then
thou 'lt know more than me."
"Hi, missis; what sort of a coat's that?" said he.
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