"A rum 'un he be, too, and right you are," said old Reuben. "A wash-bowl, likely."
"What be that 'ole in the bottom fer, then?" said young Reuben.
"Why, fer to empty him, that be, as a pig might see with 'is eyes shet."
They carried the bowl home, and a pretty good weight they found it.
Old Jim Pedler came along that evening to have a pipe. Jim Pedler had been about a deal here and there, and he knew a lot.
"Why, whatee got theer?" said he.
"Mebbe ye'll know that better ner us," replied old Reuben. "Some kind o'wash-basin, so we seem to reckon it be."
"Wash-basin," said old Jim Pedler. "That's jest what it been't. I tellee now, I do think as it's some kind of old sort of water-clock, an' that's what I think. Why, see here now, if there ain't bin lines 'ere inside fer to mark the hours or somethin'. That's it—it be a water-clock. S'pose we gits some water an' tries it."
They cleared out the hole at the bottom and filled the bowl with water up to the first hour mark; and, old Jim Pedler having a watch, they sat and looked on as the water dripped out; but when they had sat and smoked for two hours the bowl was still far from empty.
"'Twern't never meant to reckon hours by, that's a moral," said young Reuben.