He gied et to me when the scarecrow had done wi’ et, an’ the tails were so long as an Act o’ Parlyment.  ‘Top o’ this was a whackin’ big turmut by way o’ face, wi’ a red scarf round the neck—­from Aunt Deb’rah’s petticoat—­an’ wan o’ th’ ould man’s left-off wigs ‘pon the crown, an’ a high-poll hat, a bit rusted wi’ Sunday obsarvance, to finish.  Did I say ‘to finish’?

“Well, then, I said wrong.  ’Cos jest when I’d a-rigged ’n up, down comes Aunt Deb’rah an’ cries out, ‘Aw, Caleb, here be suthin’ more!  Do ‘ee fix et in, that’s a dear; an’ ef et don’t scare away any bird as iver flied, then,’ says she, ‘I’m wuss nor any bird’; an’ wi’ that she opens her hand an’ gies me the Lawyer’s cast-off eye.

“So I outs wi’ my pocket-knife an’ digs a hole in the turmat face, an’ inside o’ ten minnits there was the scarecrow finished off.  Aw, sir, ‘twas a beautiful scarecrow; an’ when us stuck et up, I tell ’ee that from the kitchen windeys, three hundred yards away, et seemed like life itsel’.

“Well, sir, fust day ’twas stuck there, I sot beside the hedge, round the corner, watchin’, and while I sot two queerish things happen’d—­ tho’ the fust warn’t so queer nuther, but jest human natur’, when you comes to consider et.  ‘Twas this.  I hadn’ been there an hour afore two score an’ dree wimmen—­I knows, ‘cos I kep’ count—­came, wan arter anuther, down to the gate to make sheep’s eyes at that scarecrow, havin’ heerd as there was a well-dressed lad down among the peas.  An’ that’s true, ef I swears et ’pon the Book.”

“Ah!” was Mr. Fogo’s only comment.

“Iss, sir; an’ well you may say so.  But the nex’ thing I noticed was a sight queerer.  In fac’ I dunno but et’s the queerest go I iver heard tell ‘bout.  But you may jedge for yoursel’.

“I’d been a-settin’ there for the best part o’ two hour, an’ keepin’ count o’ how wan bird arter another comed up for they peas, an’ turned tail at sight o’ the scarecrow.  For et didn’ seem like no ord’nary scarecrow, sir, wi’ that eye a-glintin’ in the sunshine.  I cou’d see ‘t from where I sot—­an’ so the birds thought.  Well, wan arter another, they steps up an’ flies off as ef hurried for time, when by-’m-by ’long comes an ould rook.

“He jest sa’ntered up quite leisurable, did this rook, an’ lit ’pon a pea-stick to take a blinch round.  Nat’rally he cotches sight o’ the scarecrow, an’ nat’rally I looked for ’n to turn tail, like the rest.  But no, sir.

“Where he was, the scarecrow’s back was t’wards ‘un, an’ th’ ould bird jest looks et up an’ down, an’ this way an’ that, an’ cocks his head ‘pon wan side, an’ looks agen an’ chuckles, for all the world as ef to say, ‘Et looks like a man, an’ ’tis fixed like a man; but dash my wig! ef ‘tain’t a scarecrow an’ no more, I ain’t fit to live in an age o’ imitashuns.’