"In cou'se, tho', when he found out hes mistake an' lugged the thing out o' hes pocket, there was Bedlam let loose, for up five minnits, ivery mother's son chitterin' an' laffin, an' the Deacon lookin' like a pig in a fit. He desarted the Seceders that very week, an' niver darken'd the Meetin' House door agen to the day o' hes death.
"Well, the fuss got calmed over, but somehow the Lawyer cudn' niver trust hes eye as he used to. He said 'twarn't fully dependable; an', sure 'nuff, within a month et slipped out agen, and th' ould man was forced to go to Plymouth an' buy another, a bit smaller. So he lost by his mean ways arter all. He tried to trade back th' ould eye, but the shopman wudn'; so he brought et home in hes pocket, and laid it by in the chaney cupboard, 'long wi' the cloam, [9] an' there et bided.
"An' now, sir, I'm a-comin' to the most curiosest part o' my yarn: an' you can believe or no, as you thinks fit, but I'll tell 'ee jest what I knows an' no more.
"Some two year arter, Lawyer Mennear tuk a corner out o' the twenty-acred field—a little patch to the right o' the gate as you went in—an' planted et wi' green peas. Six rows he planted, an' beautiful peas, too, on'y the birds wudn' let mun ha' a chance. Well, at las' th' ould man got mad, an' stuck me 'pon top o' the hedge wi' a clapper to scare the birds away; 'sides which, to make sure, he rigged up a scarecrow. 'Twas a lovely scarecrow: two cross-sticks an' the varmer's own coat—'twas the coat he'd a-got married in forty year afore. He gied et to me when the scarecrow had done wi' et, an' the tails were so long as an Act o' Parlyment. 'Top o' this was a whackin' big turmut by way o' face, wi' a red scarf round the neck—from Aunt Deb'rah's petticoat—an' wan o' th' ould man's left-off wigs 'pon the crown, an' a high-poll hat, a bit rusted wi' Sunday obsarvance, to finish. Did I say 'to finish'?
"Well, then, I said wrong. 'Cos jest when I'd a-rigged 'n up, down comes Aunt Deb'rah an' cries out, 'Aw, Caleb, here be suthin' more! Do 'ee fix et in, that's a dear; an' ef et don't scare away any bird as iver flied, then,' says she, 'I'm wuss nor any bird'; an' wi' that she opens her hand an' gies me the Lawyer's cast-off eye.
"So I outs wi' my pocket-knife an' digs a hole in the turmat face, an' inside o' ten minnits there was the scarecrow finished off. Aw, sir, 'twas a beautiful scarecrow; an' when us stuck et up, I tell 'ee that from the kitchen windeys, three hundred yards away, et seemed like life itsel'.
"Well, sir, fust day 'twas stuck there, I sot beside the hedge, round the corner, watchin', and while I sot two queerish things happen'd— tho' the fust warn't so queer nuther, but jest human natur', when you comes to consider et. 'Twas this. I hadn' been there an hour afore two score an' dree wimmen—I knows, 'cos I kep' count—came, wan arter anuther, down to the gate to make sheep's eyes at that scarecrow, havin' heerd as there was a well-dressed lad down among the peas. An' that's true, ef I swears et 'pon the Book."
"Ah!" was Mr. Fogo's only comment.
"Iss, sir; an' well you may say so. But the nex' thing I noticed was a sight queerer. In fac' I dunno but et's the queerest go I iver heard tell 'bout. But you may jedge for yoursel'.
"I'd been a-settin' there for the best part o' two hour, an' keepin' count o' how wan bird arter another comed up for they peas, an' turned tail at sight o' the scarecrow. For et didn' seem like no ord'nary scarecrow, sir, wi' that eye a-glintin' in the sunshine. I cou'd see 't from where I sot—an' so the birds thought. Well, wan arter another, they steps up an' flies off as ef hurried for time, when by-'m-by 'long comes an ould rook.