The Hedley Kow

There was once an old woman who earned a poor living by running errands and doing odd jobs for the farmers’ wives around her village. The money amounted to very little, but with a plate of meat at one house and a cup of tea at another, she contrived to get by. She always looked as cheerful as though she had not a care in the world.

One summer evening, as she was making her way home, she came upon a large black pot lying at the side of the road.

“Now that,” she said, stopping to inspect it, “would be just the thing for me, if only I had something to put in it! But who can have left it here?”

She glanced about, half expecting its owner to be standing somewhere close by. There was no one to be seen.

“Perhaps it has a hole in it,” she reflected. “Yes, that would explain why they left it lying here. Still, it would do very nicely for a flower in the window. I think I’ll take it home, anyhow.”

She bent her stiff old back and lifted the lid. A moment later, she had sprung back to the other side of the road.

“Mercy on me! It’s full to the brim with gold pieces!”

For some time, she could do nothing but walk round and round her treasure, admiring its yellow gleam and marvelling at her good fortune. Every few moments she assured herself that she felt wonderfully rich and grand. At last, she began to consider how she was to get it home. There seemed to be no practical solution except to fasten one end of her shawl to the pot and drag it along the road behind her.

“It’ll be dark soon,” she said to herself, “and people won’t see what I’m bringing home. Then I shall have the whole night to think about what to do with it.”

There was certainly no shortage of possibilities. She could buy a splendid house and live like the Queen herself, never doing another stroke of work, but simply sitting by the fire with a cup of tea. Or perhaps she should give the gold to the priest for safekeeping and ask for a piece whenever she wanted one. Then again, she might bury it in a hole at the bottom of the garden, keeping a little on the mantelpiece between the china teapot and the spoons, just for decoration.

“I feel so grand,” she said, “I hardly know myself!”

By now, however, dragging such a weight was beginning to tire her. She stopped for a moment’s rest and turned to make sure her fortune was safe. What she saw was not a pot of gold at all, but a great lump of shining silver.

She stared, rubbed her eyes and stared again. Nothing she could do would make it look like anything other than silver.

“I would have sworn it was a pot of gold,” she said at last. “I suppose I must have been dreaming. Well, that’s a change for the better. This will be far less trouble to look after, and not nearly so easy to steal. Those gold pieces would have been a dreadful bother to keep safe. I’m well rid of them. With this fine lump, I’m as rich as anyone could wish!”

She set off once more, cheerfully planning all the splendid things she would do with her wealth. Before long, she grew tired again and paused for another rest. Turning towards her treasure, she gave a cry of astonishment.

“Oh, my! Now it’s a lump of iron! Well, that beats everything. And how convenient!”

Iron, she reasoned, could be sold without the slightest difficulty, and would bring her a good supply of pennies. Those would be much more manageable than gold and silver, which would only have kept her awake at night, imagining that the neighbours were coming to rob her. Besides, iron was a useful thing to have about the house: there was no telling what she might find to do with it. And if she chose to sell it, there was still all that money to look forward to.

On she went, chuckling over her good luck. Presently, she glanced over her shoulder, merely to assure herself that her treasure was still there.

“Why, it’s gone and turned itself into a great stone! Now, how could it have known that I was badly wanting something to hold my door open? If that isn’t a fortunate change! It’s a fine thing to have such good luck.”

She was now impatient to see how the stone would look in its corner beside her door. Hurrying down the hill, she arrived at her own little gate and lifted the latch. Then she turned to untie her shawl from the stone, which, for once, lay peacefully on the path without appearing to have changed at all.

There was still plenty of light. As she bent her stiff back over it, she could see the stone quite plainly. Suddenly, it gave a jump and a squeal and grew, in an instant, as large as a great horse. Four lanky legs unfolded beneath it; two long ears shook themselves out; its tail swished. Off it went, kicking its feet into the air and laughing like a mischievous boy.

The old woman stared after it until it had vanished from sight.

“Well!” she said at last. “I must be the luckiest soul hereabouts! Fancy meeting the Hedley Kow all on my own, and making myself so thoroughly at home with it!”

She had recognised the shape-changing creature, and the discovery delighted her as much as the gold had done.

Still feeling wonderfully rich and grand, she went into her cottage and sat down by the fire to think over her good luck.