Part 24

(Telka) “’Twere a clayster, and the morrow findeth him afollow for price, egh?”

(Franco) “Nay, Telka, not so. And jugs ashaken soundeth like to a wine; but atip did show nay drop. Marion, do tweak the Telka—she be aslumber.”

(Marion) “Wake thee, Telka, the jugs be now to crack.”

(Telka) “Nay, ’tis a puddle o’ a tale—a packster and a strand-bound pack, aweary.”

(Franco) “But list thee! For ’twere eve that found the dames awag. For tho’ they set the jugs aright, there be but dust where they did stand. Yea, all, Telka maid, save that the peddle-man did give to dame at first hand. The gabble put it so, that ’twere the porridge begged that dames did fetch but for a hope o’ price, where jugs ashrunk.”

(Telka) “But ’twere such a scurvey, Franco! I wage the jug aleft doth leak. What think ye I be caring ’bout jug or peddle-packer?”

(Marion) “Snip short thy word, Telka. Leave Franco for to tell. I be aprick for scratch to ease the itch o’ wonder. On, lad, and tie the ends o’ weave-strand.”

(Franco) “’Tis told the dame did treasure o’ the jug, and sire did shew abroad the wonder, and all did list unto the swish o’ ’nothing wine,’ and thirsted for asup, and each did tip its crook’d neck and shake, but ne’er a drop did slip it through. And wonder, Marion, the sides did sweat like to a damp within! So ’twere. The townsmen shook awag their heads and feared the witch-work or the wise man’s cunger, and they did bid the sire to dig a pit and put therein the jug.”

(Telka) “’Twere waste they wrought, I vow, for should ye crack away its neck ’twould then be fit for holding o’ the swill. There be a pair ahind the stack.”

(Franco) “Nay, Telka, not as this, for they did dig a pit and plant jug therein, and morrow showed from out the fresh-turned earth a bush had sprung, and on its every branch a bud o’ many colored hue alike to rainbow’s robe. And lo, the dames and sires did cluster ’bout, and each did pluck a twig aladen with the bud, but as ’twere snapped, what think ye? There be in the hand a naught—save when the dame who asked not price did pluck. And ’tis told that to this day the townsmen fetch unto the bush and force apluck do they make question o’ their brotherman. And so ’tis with he who fashions o’ the rainbow’s robe a world to call his own, and fetcheth to the grown bush his brother for to shew, and he seeth not, ’tis so he judge.”

(Telka) “O, thou art a story-spinner o’ a truth, and peddle-packer too, egh? And thou dost deem that thou hast planted o’ thy pot to force thy bush by which ye judge. Paugh! Thou art a fool, Franco, and thy pots o’ color be not aworth thy pains. So thou dost think then I be plucking o’ naught aside thy bush. Well, I do tell thee this. Thy pots ne’er as the jug shall spring. Nay, for morn found me adig, and I did cast them here to the fire, afearing they should haunt.”

(Franco) “’Tis nuff, Telka, I leave them to the flame. But thou shouldst know the bush abud doth show in every smouldering blaze.”

(Telka) “See, Franco, I be yet neck ahead, for I do spat upon the flame and lo, thy bush be naught!”

(Franco) “Aye, ’tis so, but there be ahid a place thou ne’er hast seen. Therein I put what be mine own—the love for them. Thou art a butterfly, Telka, abeating o’ thy wing upon a thistle-leaf. Do hover ’bout the blooms thou knowest best and leave dream-bush and thistle-leaf.”

It is a remarkable story. Many lines are gems of wit or wisdom or beauty, and it contains some exquisite poetry. There are many characters in it, all of them lovable but Telka, and she becomes so ere the end.

A curious and interesting fact in this connection is that after beginning this story Patience used its peculiar form of speech in her conversation and in her poems. Previously, as I have pointed out, there was a natural and consistent difference between her speech and her writings, and it would seem that in this change she would show that she is not subject to any rules, nor limited to the dialect of any period or any locality. Scattered through this present volume are poems, prose pieces and bits of her conversation, in which the curious and frequent use of the prefix a-, the abbreviation of the word “of” and the strange twists of phrase of the Telka story are noticeable. All of these were received after this story was begun.

* * * * *

But there is another form of prose composition that Patience has given to us. While she is writing a story she does not confine herself to that work, but precedes or follows it with a bit of gossip, a personal message, a poem or something else. Sometimes she stops in the midst of her story to deliver something entirely foreign to it that comes into her mind. During one week, while “Telka” was being received, she presented three parables, all in the peculiar language of that story. I reproduce them here and leave it to the reader to ponder o’er their meaning.

“Long, yea, long agone, aside a wall atilt who joined unto a brother-wall and made atween a gap apoint abacked, there did upon the every day, across-leged, sit a bartmaker, amid his sacks aheaped. And ne’er a buy did tribesmen make. Nay, but ’twere the babes who sought the bartman, and lo, he shutteth both his eyes and babes do pilfer from the sacks and feed thereon, till sacks asink. And still at crosslegs doth he sit.

“Yea, and days do follow days till Winter setteleth ’pon his locks its snow. Aye, and lo, at rise o’ sun ’pon such an day as had followed day since first he sat, they did see that he had ashrunked and they did wag that ’twere the wasting o’ his days at sitting at crossleg.

“And yet the babes did fetch for feast and wert fed. Till last a day did dawn and gap ashowed it empty and no man woed; but babes did sorry ’bout the spot ’till tribesmen marveled and fetched alongside and coaxed with sweets their word. But no man found answer in their prate. And they did ope remaining sacks and lo, there be anaught save dry fruit, and babes did reach forth for it and wert fed, and more, it did nurture them, and they went forth alater to the fields o’ earth astrengthened and fed ’pon—what, Brother? List ye. ’Pon truth.”

* * * * *

“There be aside the market’s place a merchant and a brother merchant. Aye, and one did put price ahigh, and gold aclinketh and copper groweth mold atween where he did store. And his brother giveth measure full and more, for the pence o’ him who offereth but pence, at measure that runneth o’er to full o’ gold’s price.

“And lo, they do each to buy o’ herds, and he who hath full price buyeth but the shrunk o’ herd, and he who hath little, buyeth the full o’ herd. And time maketh full the sacks o’ him who hoardeth gold, and layeth at aflat the sacks o’ him who maketh poor price. And lo, he who hath plenty hoardeth more, and he who had little buyed o’ seed and sowed and reaped therefrom. And famine crept it nearer and fringed ’pon the land and smote the land o’ him who asacketh o’ gold and crept it ’pon the land o’ him o’ pence.

“And herds did low o’ hunger and he who hath but gold hath naught to feed thereon. For sacks achoked ’pon gold. And he who had but pence did sack but grain and grass and fed the herd. And lo, they fattened and did fill the emptied sacks with gold, while he who hath naught but gold did sick, and famine wasted o’ his herd and famine’s sun did rise to shine ’pon him astricken ’pon gold asacked.”

* * * * *

“There wert a man and his brother and they wrought them unalike. Yea, and one did fashion from wood, and ply till wonderwork astood, a temple o’ wood. And his brother fashioneth o’ reeds and worketh wonder baskets. And he who wrought o’ wood scoffeth. And the tribesmen make buy o’ baskets and wag that ’tis a-sorry wrought the temple, and spake them that the Lord would smite, and lay it low. For he who wrought did think him o’ naught save the high and wide o’ it, and looked not at its strength or yet its stand ’pon earth. And they did turn the baskets ’bout and put to strain, and lo, they did hold. And it were the tribesmen, who shook their heads and murmured, ‘Yea, yea, they be a goodly.’

“So ’tis; he who doth fashion from wood o’ size doth prosper not, and he who doth fashion o’ reed and small, doth thrive verily.”