"Tommy Warne's a clever fellow," he said at last. "I must see if he can tell me anything." So he walked over to Penryn on purpose.
Tommy was in his doorway smoking when Farmer Joby came down the street. "So you'm after they pack-saddles," said he.
"Why, how ever did you know?"
"That's my business. Will it do if you find 'em after harvest?"
"To be sure 'twill. I only want to know where they be."
"Very well, then; after harvest they'll be found."
Home the farmer went. Sure enough, after harvest, he went to unwind Tommy's two big bundles of straw-rope for thatching the mow, and in the middle of each was one of his missing pack-saddles.
"Well, now," said Joby's wife, "that fellow must have a real gift of conjurin'! I wonder, my dear, you don't go and consult him about that there cross-eye of yours."
"I will, then," said Joby; and he walked over to Penryn again the very next market-day.
"'Cure your eyes,' is it?" said Tommy Warne. "Why, to be sure I can. Why didn't you ax me afore? I thought you liked squintin'."