but I reckon
they're nobbut blether anent t' tale that I could tell o' what happened
me last yeer."

"What was that, Abe?" I asked. "Did you find a magpie's nest in your
Jerusalem artichokes or half-crowns in the hearts of your pickling
cabbages?"

"None o' your fleerin'," he replied. "What I'm tellin' you is t' truth,
or if it isn't' truth it's a parable, and I reckon a parable's Bible
truth. It were gettin' on towards back-end, and I'd bin diggin' potatoes
while I were in a fair sweat wi' t' heat. So I reckoned I'd just sit
down for a bit on t' bench I'd made an' rest misen. Efter a while I gat
agate once more, an' I'd ommost finished my row of potates when my fork
gat howd o' summat big. At first I thowt it were happen a gert stone
that I'd left i' t' grund, but it were nowt o' sort. 'Twere a potate,
sure enough, but I'd niver set eyes on owt like it afore, nor thee
either. 'Twere bigger nor my heead; nay, 'twere bigger nor a
fooit-ball."

"Somebody wanted to have a bit of fun with you, Abe," I interrupted,
"and had buried a vegetable-marrow in your potato-patch."

"Nay, it were a potate reight enough, an' I were fair capped when I'd
getten howd on it wi' my two hands. 'I'll show this to Sam Holroyd,' I
said to misen. He were chuff, were Sam, 'cause he'd getten six pund o'
potates off o' one root; I reckoned I'd getten six pund off o' one
potate. Well, I were glowerin' at t' potate when a lad com up that I'd
niver seen afore. He were a young lad by his size, but he'd an owdish
look i' his face, an' he says to me: 'What's yon?'

"Thou may well axe that,' I answered. 'It's a potate.'

"'What arta boun to do wi' it?' he axed.

"'Nay,' I said, 'I reckon I'll take it to t' Flower Show an' get first
prize.'

"'Thou mun do nowt o' t' sort,' said t' lad; 'thou mun bury it.'

"'Bury it! What for sud I bury it, I'd like to know?'

"'Thou mon bury it i' t' grund an' see what it grows intul.'

"Well, I reckoned there might be some sense in what t' lad said, for if
I could raise a seck o' seed potates like yon I'd sooin' mak my fortune.
But then I bethowt me o' t' time o' t' yeer, and I said:

"'But wheer's t' sense o' settin' a potate at t' back-end?'

"'Thou'll not have to wait so lang to see what cooms on 't,' he replied,
and then he turned on his heel an' left me standin' theer.

"Well, I reckoned it were a fooil's trick, but all t' same I put t'
potate back into t' grund, an' went home. That neet it started