“No, no,” he insisted. “Wait, first tell me how many things you can see with the naked eye.”
“A horse, a cow, a man lying on the grass, trees, distant haystacks and a windmill,” she said slowly.
“And is that all?” he laughed.
“No, a saddle on the ground, a rooster on the fence—yes—and some sheep at the foot of the hill.”
“Nothing more?”
“No, I don’t think so—except the buckles on the harness and the birds flying near the pigeon-cote.”
“Yes—yes—is that all?”
“Yes, I’m sure it is.”
“You’re blind as a bat, girl,” he roared delightedly. “Look through this and see!” and he handed her the glass. “Buckles on the horses! Examine it! Don’t you see the pack thread it’s sewed with? And the saddle gall on the horse’s back? And the crack in the left fore-hoof? Did you ever see anything more wonderful? Now look into the distance and tell me what else.”
“Haymakers,” gasped Miss Loring. “Two women, a man and—and, yes, a child. I couldn’t see them at all. There’s a rake and pitch fork, too——”