a liard for my
pains. But the same thing happen'd nex' Sunday, an' the Sunday
arter--an' not a pea stolen all the time--an' a good few people
comed down behind the hedge to see, an' owned up as I were right.
Et got to be the talk o' the country; an' how 'twud ha' ended,
goodness on'y knaws, ef I hadn' a-spi'led the sport mysel'. An' how
I did so, you shall hear.

"Wan day I tuk a consait as 'twud be a game to take away the
scarecrow's eye an' see what happen'd. So, late 'pon a Sat'rday
night, down I goes an' digs out the eye wi' my jack-knife, an' lays
et careful down 'pon the ground beside et, an' so off to bed.

"Nex' mornin' I were down waitin' some time afore the rooks was due,
an' by-'m-by, about 'leven in the forenoon, 'long they comes by the
score, an' takes the sittin's 'pon the pea-sticks. They was barely
settled, when out steps my ould rook an' walks up to the scarecrow to
lead off same as ushul.

"He gives a shake o' the head to set hes jawin'-tacks loose, casts a
glance up'ards t'wards the eye, jes' to fetch inspirashun, an' starts
back like as ef shot. You cou'd see the 'stonishment _clinch_ 'n,
an' the look o' righteousness melted off hes face like snow in an
oven. For that bird had _gifts_, sir; an' wan o' these was a power
o' fashul expresshun. Well, back he starts, an', with the same,
cotches sight o' the eye lyin' 'pon the ground an' starin' up all
heav'nly-blue an' smilin'.

"There was a pause arter this, jes' about so long as you cou'd count
twenty; an' the rest o' the congregashun began to fidget an' whisper
round that suthin' was up, when all 'pon a sudden my ould rook
straightens hissel' up an' begins to cuss and to swear. What's that
you say, sir? Rooks don't swear? Don't tell me. Blasphemin'?
Why, in two minnits the air was stiff wi' blasphemy--you might ha'
cut et wi' a knife. An' oaths? Why, you cou'd _feel_ the oaths.
An' there he sot an' cussed, an' cussed an' sot, an' let the
hatefulness run out like watter from a pump.

"In cou'se, 'twarnt long afore the rest gather'd round to larn what
the mess was, an' then there was Chevychace. They handed round the
eye, an' looked at et this way an' that, an' 'splained what had
happen'd wan to t'other; an' then they hushed an' stood quiet while
their dasayved brother cussed hissel' out. Not a smile 'mongst the
lot, sir; not a wink, as I be a truthful man.

"At las' he'd a-done, an' not too soon for hes lungs; an' then the
lot s