“I told ‘ee, sir, the Deacon were short o’ sight.  He hadn’ a doubt by this time the boys had been foolin’ about wi’ marbles, so he reaches out, grabs the eye, an’ slips et into hes trowsy-pocket; an’ then he takes a glance round, so much as to say, ’I reckon the owner of this ‘ere glass-alley’ll ha’ to wait afore he sees ‘n agen.’

“In cou’se, the rest o’ the brethren knawed what had happened, an’ wan or two fell to titterin’ a bit; but altogether there was a kind o’ breathlessness for a moment or so, an’ then th’ ould Mennear sings out from the pulpit—­

“‘Brother Hoskins, I’ll trouble you to kindly pass up that eye.’

“Deacon Hoskins stared a bit, but was too short o’ sight to see what the matter was.

“‘Eh?’ says he.

“‘Hand up that eye, ef you plaise.’

“‘What eye?’ says the Deacon.

“Th’ ould Mennear stamped and seemed fit to swear.

“‘Why, my eye, you nation bufflehead!’ The Lawyer didn’t mind much what he said when hes back was up; an’ arter all ‘twere, in a kind o’ way, ’scuseable.

“’Look ‘ere,’ answers back the Deacon, ’ef you’ve drapped your eye, an’ be that fond o’ the cheap-jack thing that you can’t get on wi’out et, send round Deacon Spettigue to hunt, an’ not a man as can’t see sax inches afore hes nose.  Et’s out o’ reas’n,’ he said, ‘an’ you ort to know better.’

“In cou’se, tho’, when he found out hes mistake an’ lugged the thing out o’ hes pocket, there was Bedlam let loose, for up five minnits, ivery mother’s son chitterin’ an’ laffin, an’ the Deacon lookin’ like a pig in a fit.  He desarted the Seceders that very week, an’ niver darken’d the Meetin’ House door agen to the day o’ hes death.

“Well, the fuss got calmed over, but somehow the Lawyer cudn’ niver trust hes eye as he used to.  He said ‘twarn’t fully dependable; an’, sure ‘nuff, within a month et slipped out agen, and th’ ould man was forced to go to Plymouth an’ buy another, a bit smaller.  So he lost by his mean ways arter all.  He tried to trade back th’ ould eye, but the shopman wudn’; so he brought et home in hes pocket, and laid it by in the chaney cupboard, ‘long wi’ the cloam, [9] an’ there et bided.

“An’ now, sir, I’m a-comin’ to the most curiosest part o’ my yarn:  an’ you can believe or no, as you thinks fit, but I’ll tell ’ee jest what I knows an’ no more.

“Some two year arter, Lawyer Mennear tuk a corner out o’ the twenty-acred field—­a little patch to the right o’ the gate as you went in—­an’ planted et wi’ green peas.  Six rows he planted, an’ beautiful peas, too, on’y the birds wudn’ let mun ha’ a chance.  Well, at las’ th’ ould man got mad, an’ stuck me ‘pon top o’ the hedge wi’ a clapper to scare the birds away; ’sides which, to make sure, he rigged up a scarecrow.  ’Twas a lovely scarecrow:  two cross-sticks an’ the varmer’s own coat—­’twas the coat he’d a-got married in forty year afore.