the top o' the hill, and dealt in potions and herbs and spells and
things, and could tell thee! all as 'd come to thee or thy folk. So he
told his mother, and asked her if he could seek the wise woman and buy a
pottle o' brains.

"That ye should," says she; "thou 'st sore need o' them, my son: and if
I should die, who'd take care o' a poor fool such 's thou, no more fit
to look after thyself than an unborn baby? but mind thy manners, and
speak her pretty, my lad; for they wise folk are gey and light
mispleased."

So off he went after his tea, and there she was, sitting by the fire,
and stirring a big pot.

"Good e'en, missis," says he, "it's a fine night."

"Aye," says she, and went on stirring.

"It'll maybe rain," says he, and fidgeted from one foot to t' other.

"Maybe," says she.

"And m'appen it won't," says he, and looked out o' the window.

"M'appen," says she.

And he scratched his head and twisted his hat.

"Well," says he, "I can't mind nothing else about the weather, but let
me see; the crops are getting on fine."

"Fine," says she.

"And--and--the beasts is fattening," says he.

"They are," says she.

"And--and--" says he, and comes to a stop--"I reckon we'll tackle
business now, having done the polite like. Have you any brains for to
sell?"

"That depends," says she, "if thou wants king's brains, or soldier's
brains, or schoolmaster's brains, I dinna keep 'em."

"Hout no," says he, "jist ordinary brains--fit for any fool--same as
every one has about here; something clean common-like."

"Aye so," says the wise woman, "I might manage that, if so be thou 'lt
help thyself."

"How's that for, missis?" says he.

"Jest so," says she, looking in the pot; "bring me the heart of the
thing thou likest best of all, and I'll tell thee where to get thy
pottle o' brains."

"But," says he, scratching his head, "how can I do that?"

"That's no for me to say," says she, "find out for thyself, my lad! if
thou doesn't want to be a fool all thy days. But thou 'll have to read
me a riddle so as I can see thou 'st brought the right thing, and if thy
brains is about thee. And I've something else to see to," says she, "so
gode'en to thee," and she carried the pot away with her into the back
place.

So off went the fool to his mother, and told her what the wise woman
said.

"And I reckon I'll have to kill that pig," says he, "for I like fat
bacon better than anything."

"Then do it, my lad," said hi