But days and days passed, and the new Moon never came, and the nights
were aye dark, and the Evil Things were worse than ever. And still the
days went on, and the new Moon never came. Naturally the poor folk were
strangely feared and mazed, and a lot of them went to the Wise Woman who
dwelt in the old mill, and asked if so be she could find out where the
Moon was gone.
"Well," said she, after looking in the brewpot, and in the mirror, and
in the Book, "it be main queer, but I can't rightly tell ye what's
happened to her. If ye hear of aught, come and tell me."
So they went their ways; and as days went by, and never a Moon came,
naturally they talked--my word! I reckon they _did_ talk! their tongues
wagged at home, and at the inn, and in the garth. But so came one day,
as they sat on the great settle in the Inn, a man from the far end of
the bog lands was smoking and listening, when all at once he sat up and
slapped his knee. "My faicks!" says he, "I'd clean forgot, but I reckon
I kens where the Moon be!" and he told them of how he was lost in the
bogs, and how, when he was nigh dead with fright, the light shone out,
and he found the path and got home safe.
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