"Well, in cou'se I tells the tale, an' was called a liard for my pains. But the same thing happen'd nex' Sunday, an' the Sunday arter—an' not a pea stolen all the time—an' a good few people comed down behind the hedge to see, an' owned up as I were right. Et got to be the talk o' the country; an' how 'twud ha' ended, goodness on'y knaws, ef I hadn' a-spi'led the sport mysel'. An' how I did so, you shall hear.
"Wan day I tuk a consait as 'twud be a game to take away the scarecrow's eye an' see what happen'd. So, late 'pon a Sat'rday night, down I goes an' digs out the eye wi' my jack-knife, an' lays et careful down 'pon the ground beside et, an' so off to bed.
"Nex' mornin' I were down waitin' some time afore the rooks was due, an' by-'m-by, about 'leven in the forenoon, 'long they comes by the score, an' takes the sittin's 'pon the pea-sticks. They was barely settled, when out steps my ould rook an' walks up to the scarecrow to lead off same as ushul.
"He gives a shake o' the head to set hes jawin'-tacks loose, casts a glance up'ards t'wards the eye, jes' to fetch inspirashun, an' starts back like as ef shot. You cou'd see the 'stonishment clinch 'n, an' the look o' righteousness melted off hes face like snow in an oven. For that bird had gifts, sir; an' wan o' these was a power o' fashul expresshun. Well, back he starts, an', with the same, cotches sight o' the eye lyin' 'pon the ground an' starin' up all heav'nly-blue an' smilin'.
"There was a pause arter this, jes' about so long as you cou'd count twenty; an' the rest o' the congregashun began to fidget an' whisper round that suthin' was up, when all 'pon a sudden my ould rook straightens hissel' up an' begins to cuss and to swear. What's that you say, sir? Rooks don't swear? Don't tell me. Blasphemin'? Why, in two minnits the air was stiff wi' blasphemy—you might ha' cut et wi' a knife. An' oaths? Why, you cou'd feel the oaths. An' there he sot an' cussed, an' cussed an' sot, an' let the hatefulness run out like watter from a pump.
"In cou'se, 'twarnt long afore the rest gather'd round to larn what the mess was, an' then there was Chevychace. They handed round the eye, an' looked at et this way an' that, an' 'splained what had happen'd wan to t'other; an' then they hushed an' stood quiet while their dasayved brother cussed hissel' out. Not a smile 'mongst the lot, sir; not a wink, as I be a truthful man.
"At las' he'd a-done, an' not too soon for hes lungs; an' then the lot sat down an' conseddered et out, an' still not a word for minnits togither. But all to wanst up starts a youngish-lookin' rook, an' makes a speech.
"'Twarn't a long speech, sir, an' nat'rally I didn't understand a word: but I cotched his drift in a minnit, tho'. For they rooks started up, walked back to their seats, an' what do 'ee think they did?"
"I couldn't pretend to guess," said Mr. Fogo.
"They jes' started that sarvice agan, sir, an' paradised et from start to finish. They mixed up ow jests wi' the prayers, an' flung in fancy yarns wi' their experiences, an' made a mock at th' exhortashun; an' what they sung in place o' the hemn, I don't know; but I do knaw this much—et warn't fit for a woman to list'n to.