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: