The imperfection of his vision is a great hindrance to Bettesworth's efficiency. He cannot see with any certainty what is a foot before his nose; and this morning, therefore, I have had to be with him, to superintend the building-up of some rough steps in the garden.

We began talking about shovels. “Where,' said he, “d'ye think we found your shovel this morning?”

“I didn't know that it was lost.”

“Yes, he bin lost some time.”

“I hadn't missed it. I saw there was a shovel about.”

“Yes, this 'n. That's mine. But yourn was lost. I says to the little boy yesterday, “Have a good look for 'n. I'm sure he's about somewhere. We en't never lost no tools yet.' I hates being about where anythink 's lost. So I hunted an' I couldn't find 'n. But the boy found 'n—in among they nettles by the big nut tree. The other boy 'd left 'n there.”

“I can see now this isn't my shovel.”

“No, he en't like yourn. Yours is one o' they patent ones. Got a holler back. But this is a very nice shovel. Got such a good lift to 'n. I lent 'n to Jimmy Cook up 'ere at the gravel pits a week or two ago.