fe! Throp's wife!' says Satan; 'an' who's Throp's wife to
set hersen agean me?'

"'Shoo's made fowks i' Cohen-eead that thrang wi' wark they've no time
to think o' sins.'

"'An' what have thy flies bin doin' all t' time?' asks Satan. 'They've
bin laikin', that's what they've bin doin'. They ought to hae bin
buzzin' round fowks' heeads an' whisperin' sinful thowts into their
lug-hoils. How mony flies does thou keep at Cohen-eead?'

"T' god o' flies taks out his book an' begins to read t' list: 'Five
hunderd mawks, three hunderd atter-cops, two hunderd an' fifty
bummle-bees.' 'Bummle-bees! Bummle-bees!' says Satan. 'What's t' gooid
o' them, I'd like to know? How mony house-flies, how mony blue-bottles
hasta sent?' and wi' that he rives t' book out o' Beelzebub's hands and
turns ower t' pages hissen.

"At lang length he gies him back his book, and he says: 'I sal hae to
look into this misen. Throp's wife! I'll sooin sattle wi' Throp's wife.
I'll noan have her turnin' Cohen-eead intul a Gardin o' Eden. I reckon
I'm fair stalled o' that mak o' place.'

"So Satan gav out that he were baan for Cohen-eead an' wouldn't be back
while to-morn. 'Twere lat i' t' afternooin when he'd getten theer, an'
t' first thing he did were to creep behind a wall and change hissen
intul a sarpint. An' as he were set theer, waitin' for it to get dark,
he saw five blue-bottles that were laikin' at tig i' t' sunshine anent
t' wall. Well, that made t'owd devil fair mad, for they ought to hae bin
i' t' houses temptin' fowks to sin; so he oppened his cake-hoil, thrast
out his forked tongue, an' swallowed three on 'em at one gulp. After
that he felt a bit better. When it were turned ten o'clock, he crawled
alang t' loans an' bridle-stiles, while he gat to Throp's farm. He
sidled under t' door and into t' kitchen. It were as dark as a booit i'
t' kitchen, an' he could hear Throp snorin' i' bed aboon t' balks. So he
crawled up t' stairs, an' under t' chamer door, an' up on to t' bed. Eh!
but Throp's wife would hae bin flustered if shoo'd seen a sarpint
liggin' theer on t' pillow close agean her lug-hoil. But shoo were fast
asleep, wi' Throp aside her snorin' like an owd ullet i' t' ivy-tree. So
t' devil started temptin' her, and what doesta think he said?"

"I suppose he told her not to work so hard," I replied, "but take life
more easily and quarrel a bit with her neighbours."

Tim o' Frolics paused for a moment to enjoy the luxury of seeing me fa