Young Reuben scraped off his boots the worst of the mud from the furrows against the gate-post, shut the gate, and trudged homewards from his labour; as he turned into the road from the end of the lane he came in sight of old Reuben, sitting as usual on his heap of stones by the roadside; his hammer lay idly in his hand, its head on the heap of larger flints before him; the old gentleman was slowly shaking his head--not that he was such a very old gentleman; sixty, maybe; and still hale and strong. "What be amiss, father?" said young Reuben. "Ye've bin a-settin' there shakin' yer head like a old owl since I turned into the road. It be time to knock off." "Amiss, Reuben? Why, thet's where you have me, like. What I know is, there be a somethin' amiss; and it be either me or the time, and so I tell ye. Am I a-gettin' old an' weak, boy; or is it the hours a-goin' quicker? Lookee here, Reuben, it do seem to me as I can do less in the time every blessed day as follers t'other! Why, thirty year agone, blest if I didn't do--ah, double thet there little 'eap in the day's work--and yet, blame me if I feel a bit weaker nor I used ter! You mark my words, Reuben, boy; the hours is a-gettin' shorter every day--thet's what they're a-doin', and you put it down at thet!" Young Reuben laughed incredulously. "You're a-gittin' lazy, old 'un--that's about the size of it," he said. [Illustration: 'Young Reuben laughed.'] "I hain't a-gettin' nothink o' the kind nor discripshen!" said old Reuben, starting up indignantly; "and you put it down at thet." "Well, lazy or not lazy, I ken show ye a stone as you ain't industrous enough fer to break. Found it in a furrer, I did; an' talk about 'ard! And a fair rum 'un he be, too." They plodded to the field young Reuben had just left; and young Reuben, with some difficulty, lifted the "stone" for inspection. It was a bowl, very ancient by the look of it, laboriously carved and ground out from a piece of rock that seemed as hard as steel. "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."