Barring the cast, he grew up a very straight lad, and in due time
began to think upon marrying. His father's house faced south, and as
it came easier to him to look north-west than any other direction, he
chose a wife from Gwinear parish. His elder brothers had gone off to
sea for their living, and his sister had married a mine-captain: so
when the old people died, Joby took over the farm and worked it, and
did very well.

Joby's wife was very fond of him, though of course she didn't like
that cast in his looks: and in many ways 'twas inconvenient too.
If the poor man ever put hand on plough to draw a straight furrow,
round to the north 'twould work as sure as a compass-needle.
She consulted the doctors about it, and they did no good. Then she
thought about consulting a conjurer; but being a timorous woman as
well as not over-wise, she put it off for a while.

Now, there was a little fellow living over to Penryn in those
times, Tommy Warne by name, that gave out he knew how to conjure.
Folks believed in him more than he did himself: for, to tell truth,
he was a lazy shammick, who liked most ways of getting a living
better than hard work. Still, he was generally made pretty welcome
at the farm-houses round, for he could turn a hand to anything and
always kept the maids laughing in the kitchen. One morning he
dropped in on Farmer Joby and asked for a job to earn his dinner; and
Joby gave him some straw to spin for thatching. By dinner-time Tom
had spun two bundles of such very large size that the farmer rubbed
his chin when he looked at them.

"Why," says he, "I always thought you a liar--I did indeed. But now
I believe you can conjure, sure enough."