"What is a conscience?"

"Oh a little clock inside you, like the
Clock-with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantel. It tells you when it is time to
stop," explained their friend.

And Jehosophat and Marmaduke looked as if they knew just what he meant.
But Hepzebiah was too little yet to understand.

"See, Mr. Jim Crow is long and black. He has a bad eye."

So he buried Mr. Jim Crow under the oak tree while the children watched.

After that the Toyman said:

"I reckon Mr. Scarecrow has fainted."

"Who's Mr. Scarecrow?" asked the three happy children. "Is he Mr. Jim
Crow's cousin?"

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Toyman. "That is a good one. No, Mr. Scarecrow is
the policeman of the cornfield. Let's go over and set him on his pins
again."

So again he walked through the rows between the cornstalks and they came to
a little clear place in the middle of the field.

There, flat on his back, lay Mr. Scarecrow.

He too looked as if he were dead. But he was not.