"One eye, yes, but one eye, no," said the dame, slyly.
"Which eye do you see me with?" said he.
"With this eye, gossip, and very clearly, I would have you know," and she pointed to her right eye.
Then the little man swelled out his cheeks until they were like two little brown dumplings. Puff! he blew a breath into the good dame's eye. Puff! he blew, and if the dame's eye had been a candle, the light of it could not have gone out sooner.
The dame felt no smart, but she might wink and wink, and wink again, but she would never wink sight into the eye upon which the little man had blown his breath, for it was blind as the stone wall back of the mill, where Tom the tinker kissed the miller's daughter.
Dame Margery Twist never greatly missed the sight of that eye; but all the same, I would give both of mine for it.
All of these things are told at Tavistock town even to this day; and if you go thither, you may hear them for yourself.
But I say again, as I said at first: if one could
only hold one's tongue as to what one sees,
one would be the better for it.