i'vecomeback,forialwayskeepmyword,andyouhavesevenfour-leavedshamrocksinyourpocket,andoneofthemisasix-leavedone.thatinspiresrespect,forthat'sanorderthatgrowsbesidethesandyway;butthateveryonedoesnotfind.whathaveyoutoaskme?don'tstandtherelikearidiculousoaf,forimustgobackagaindirectlytomybungandmycask."

andthemanaskedaboutthestory,andinquiredifthemoor-womanhadmetitinherjourneyings.

"bythebigbrewing-vat!"exclaimedthewoman,"haven'tyougotstoriesenough?ireallybelievethatmostpeoplehaveenoughofreareotherthingstotakenoticeof,otherthingstoexamine.eventhechildrenhavegonebeyondthat.givethelittleboyacigar,andthelittlegirlanewcrinoline;theylikethatmuchbetter.tolistentostories!no,indeed,therearemoreimportantthingstobedonehere,andotherthingstonotice!"

"whatdoyoumeanbythat?"askedtheman,"andwhatdoyouknowoftheworld?youdon'tseeanythingbutfrogsandwill-o'-the-wisps!"

"yes,bewareofthewill-o'-the-wisps,"saidthemoor-woman,"forthey'reout-they'reletloose-that'swhatwemusttalkabout!cometomeinthemoor,wheremypresenceisnecessary,andiwilltellyouallaboutit;butyoumustmakehaste,andcomewhileyoursevenfour-leavedshamrocks,forwhichonehassixleaves,arestillfresh,andthemoonstandshigh!"

andthemoor-womanwasgone.

itstrucktwelveinthetown,andbeforethelaststrokehaddiedaway,themanwasoutintheyard,outinthegarden,andstoodinthemeadow.themisthadvanished,andthemoor-womanstoppedherbrewing.

"you'vebeenalongtimecoming!"saidthemoor-woman."witchesgetforwardfasterthanmen,andi'mgladthatibelongtothewitchfolk!"

"whathaveyoutosaytomenow?"askedtheman."isitanythingaboutthestory?"

"canyounevergetbeyondaskingaboutthat?"retortedthewoman.

"canyoutellmeanythingaboutthepoetryofthefuture?"resumedtheman.

"don'tgetonyourstilts,"saidthecrone,"andi'llansweryou.youthinkofnothingbutpoetry,andonlyaskaboutthatstory,asifsheweretheladyofthewholetroop.she'stheoldestofusall,butshetakesprecedenceoftheyoungest.iknowherwell.i'vebeenyoung,too,andshe'snochickennow.iwasoncequiteaprettyelf-maiden,andhavedancedinmytimewiththeothersinthemoonlight,andhaveheardthenightingale,andhavegoneintotheforestandmetthestory-maiden,whowasalwaystobefoundoutthere,runningabout.sometimesshetookuphernight'slodginginahalf-blowntulip,orinafieldflower;sometimesshewouldslipintothechurch,andwrapherselfinthemourningcrapethathungdownfromthecandlesonthealtar."

"youarecapitallywell-informed,"saidtheman.

"ioughtatleasttoknowasmuchasyou,"answeredthemoor-woman."storiesandpoetry-yes,they'reliketwoyardsofthesamepieceofstuff;theycangoandliedownwheretheylike,andonecanbrewalltheirprattle,andhaveitallthebetterandcheaper.youshallhaveitfrommefornothing.ihaveawholecupboard-fullofpoetryinbottles.itmakesessences;andthat'sthebestofit-bitterandsweetherbs.ihaveeverythingthatpeoplewantofpoetry,inbottles,sothaticanputalittleonmyhandkerchief,onholidays,tosmell."

"why,thesearewonderfulthingsthatyou'retelling!"saidtheman."youhavepoetryinbottles?"

"morethanyoucanrequire,"saidthewoman."isupposeyouknowthehistoryof'thegirlwhotrodontheloaf,sothatshemightnotsoilhershoes'?