What did Gilly of the Goatskin do in the Townland of Mischance? He got
up early and went to bed late; he was kept digging, delving and ditching
until he was so tired that he could go to sleep in a furze bush; he ate
a breakfast that left him hungry five hours before dinner-time, and he
ate a dinner that made it seem long until supper-time. If he complained
the Churl would say, “Well, then you are sorry for your bargain,” and
Gilly would say “No,” rather than lose the wages he had earned and a
strip of his skin into the bargain.
One day the Churl said to him, “Go into the town for salt for my supper,
take the short way across the pasture-field, and be sure not to let the
grass grow under your feet.” “All right, master,” said Gilly. “Maybe
you would bring me my coat out of the house so that I needn’t make two
journeys.” The Churl went into the house for Gilly’s coat. When he came
back he found Gilly standing in the nice grass of the pasture-field
lighting a wisp of hay. “What are you doing that for?” said the Churl to
him. “To burn the grass on the pasture-field,” said Gilly. “To burn the
grass on my pasture-field, you villain--the grass that is for my good
race-horse’s feeding! What do you mean, at all?” “Sure, you told me not
to let the grass grow under my feet,” said Gilly. “Doesn’t the world
know that the grass is growing every minute, and how will I prevent it
from growing under my feet if I don’t burn it?” With that he stooped
down to put the lighted hay to the grass of the pasture-field. “Stop,
stop,” said the Churl, “I meant that you were to go to the town,
without loitering on the way.” “Well, it’s a pity you didn’t speak more
clearly,” said Gilly, “for now the grass is a-fire.” The Churl bad to
stamp on the grass to put the fire out. He burnt his shins, and that
made him very angry. “O you fool,” said he to Gilly, “I’m sorry--” “Are
you sorry for the bargain you made with me, Master?” “No. I was going
to say I was sorry I hadn’t made my meaning clear to you. Go now to the
town and bring me back salt for my supper as quickly as you can.”
After that the Churl was very careful when he gave Gilly an order to
speak to him very exactly. This became a great trouble to him, for the
people in the Townland of Mischance used always to say, “Don’t let the
grass grow under your feet,” when they meant “Make haste,” and “Don’t
be there until you’re back,” when they meant “Go quickly” and “Come with
horses’ legs” when they meant “come with great speed.” He became tired
of speaking to Gilly by the letter, so he made up his mind to give him
an order that could not be carried out, so that he might have a chance
of sending him away without the wages he had earned.
One Monday morning he called Gilly to the door of the house and said to
him, “Take this sheep-skin to the market and bring me back the price
of it and the skin.” “Very well, Master,” said Gilly. He put the skin
across his arm and went towards the town. The people on the road said
to him, “What do you want for the sheep-skin, young fellow?” “I want
the skin and the price of it,” Gilly said. The people laughed at him and
said, “You’re going to give yourself a long journey, young fellow.”
He went through the market asking for the skin and the price of it.
Everyone joked about him. He went into the market-house and came to a
woman who was buying things that no one else would buy. “What do you
want, youth?” said she. “The price of the skin and the skin itself,”
said Gilly. She took the skin from him and plucked the wool out of it.
She put the wool in her bag and put the skin back on the board. “There’s
the skin,” said she, “and here’s the price of it.” She left three groats
and a tester on top of the skin.
The Churl had finished his supper when Gilly came into the house. “Well,
Master, I’ve come back to you,” said Gilly. “Did you bring me the price
of it and the skin itself?” said the Churl. “There is the skin,” said
Gilly, putting on the table the sheep-skin with the wool plucked out of
it. “And here’s the price of it--three groats and a tester,” said he,
leaving the money on top of the skin.
After that the Churl of the Townland of Mischance began to be afraid
that Gilly of the Goatskin would be too wise for him, and would get away
at the end of the three months with his wages, a guinea, a groat and a
tester, in his fist. This thought made the Churl very downcast, because,
for many months now, he had got hard labor out of his serving-boys,
without giving them a single cross for wages.