Just a bit of light fun for this chapter, I'm afraid. But never fear! In the next chapter, the dark side of one of the characters will be revealed! And I know what you're thinking. Who, out of three innocent little boys, and a mysterious spinster who lives in a creepy old house, could POSSIBLY have anything to hide? You'll have to wait and see, after this installment!

"Hey, Fiddleford?" The three boys were huddled in the Stan o' War, to shelter from the pelting autumn rain. It was a Saturday, and they were damp and a bit miserable. Stanford and Fiddleford were playing cards, while Stanley drew monsters in chalk on the inside of the hull.

"Hmm?" He looked up at Stan curiously.

"How come you always squint when you look at stuff?"

"What'd ya mean?"

"Well, whenever you're reading something far away or thinking really hard, you do this." Stan screwed his face up tightly. "Sorry, but ya do."

Fiddleford scowled. "I do not! My eyesight is just fine, thank you."

"Okay then, prove it to us. How about..." Ford scanned the beach through the sheet of rain through the entrance. "There! Can you read that sign? Right here, right now." He pointed to a blurry object about ten metres away, near the lone lifeguard's chair. Fiddleford squinted. He was pretty sure that was the sign. Did it even have writing on it? He'd have to wing it.

"...Er... 'Do not swim without lifeguard'?" he guessed desperately.

"Actually it says, 'Check your swimsuit for glass shards before you leave, especially the crotch area'."

"Pfft. Who the heck can read that much text at that distance, anyway?"

"I can!" claimed Stan proudly. "An' I'm supposed to be the less intelligent one, who makes it up with good looks and charisma!"

"Not helping, Stanley."

"Sorry."

"Alright, Fidds." Ford sighed, laying down a card. "If you want to deny the truth, then go right ahead. But I remember what it was like before I got my eyes checked, and I didn't have anywhere near as bad eyesight as you do."

"Doo doo doo," hummed Fiddleford, putting down three more. "Denying the truth, da da..."

"Fine." And nothing more was said about it for the rest of the afternoon.

"Stupid twins," Fiddleford grumbled on his way home, not noticing the seeping coldness in his feet as he walked right through a puddle. "What do they know about it? I'm fine just the way I am. And who needs to see super far like them, if you obviously can't even notice what's right under your- OUCH!" He promptly crashed into something soft and warm. Which looked and smelt like duffle coats and Tabasco sauce.

"Ah Fiddleford, there you are," said Aunt Clara pleasantly, as her nephew regained his balance. "I was waiting for you. It looked like you were going to walk right past our house, but that would be ridiculous. I've got an appointment in half an hour at the local optician's, and you're coming with me. Not a moment to lose." She strode off, with Fiddleford half-running behind. He noticed, as they walked, how out of place she looked, anywhere other than the tall thin house which they called home. The idea of his stringent aunt, very set in her ways, actually making polite conversation and making allowances for other human beings, seemed to him like a very odd concept.

"Are you goin' to get your eyes checked, Aunt Clara?" Fiddleford panted, as they reached the shops.

"Oh, this isn't my appointment," she said casually. "It's yours, in fact." The boy stopped dead in his tracks.

"M-me? But, why? I'm completely healthy!"

"Fiddleford, you are clearly at least a little bit short-sighted," Aunt Clara told him bluntly. "Honestly, I'm surprised that your parents didn't cotton on sooner. Every time you read text written smaller than a picture book, your face goes so tight that if I put a lump of coal in your eye, I'll bet that in two minutes I'll get a diamond. That is, if a vacuum isn't created in the middle of your face. Face it, you need to get glasses. Before the wind changes."

"Oh. Alright, ma'am. I never really gave it much thought, that's all."He really hadn't. Even when the twins had quizzed him earlier, he'd never really accepted that there were people around who could actually see better than him simply because of genetics. It was like Phys. Ed., but with eyesight.

"Quite natural, don't you worry. Now, come." They came to a slightly battered-looking store with an eye set in the window, and they went in.

A young woman with horn-rimmed glasses greeted them. "Hello there. What can we at 'Mr Blindsabat's Eye Specialists' do for you?"

"Good afternoon. I'd like to have my nephew's eyes checked, please."

"No problem. Hey, you!" The woman tapped Fiddleford on the shoulder. "Answer this question for me, please. Tell me the difference between these two walls." She procured from thin air two identical pictures of the side of a building. Identical in every respect, except the first one was splattered barnacles- as the houses and shops near the sea often were.

"Well that one's covered in barnacles, ma'am, whereas that one's clean."

"Quite right. Here, have a lump of tobacco for being a good boy." A disgusting object was popped into Fiddleford's mouth. It tasted like cigarettes and toughness. "Okay, we've given him an assessment, and his eyes appear to be fine. That'll be ten dollars, please."

"What?! That's it?" Aunt Clara looked furious. "Do you really think all this boy will have to do in life is spot barnacles on the promenade? What about his studies?"

"Oh. You mean..." the woman looked genuinely puzzled. "Is he one of those intellectual types, then?"

"Yes," Fiddleford's aunt answered confidently. "My nephew is going to be a world famous scientist one day." This is news to me, Fiddleford thought to himself ruefully. Well, if it meant he could see better...

"Well, you shoulda just said. Here we have our intelligence-ometer range. ENORMOUS glasses equals BIGGER smarts in the working world!" She showed them a row of glasses, which steadily increased in size as they progressed along the long display case. The pair on the end cost two hundred dollars, and needed two sturdy men to carry them in front of your eyes for you. "I'd recommend the 'Medical Profession Xzec' set, radius thirty inches."

"Before we do anything, I'd like a professional to give him a proper assessment." The woman sighed grumpily.

"Fine. We'll take him into the back room."

Half an hour later, Fiddleford followed his Aunt Clara out of Mr Blindsabat's, wearing his new pair of glasses. The sun was going down, but at least the rain had stopped.

"Do you like them?" asked Aunt Clara hesitantly. "There were a lot of pairs in there that were bigger and more 'intellectual'."

"I definitely like these ones," he assured his aunt, looking around. "For one thing, I don't need someone to carry them for me. And I can see so far now! It'll be easier to read the blackboard now, for sure."

"The nerve of that woman, though. Giving a piece of chewing tobacco to a child!" Fiddleford shrugged.

"She didn't mean any harm, Aunt Clara. And it actually tastes okay now. I wonder how far I can spit it..."

"Fiddleford, give that to me this instant."

"I'm kidding."

And that's it! Next one will be up in a few days. Until next time, I am needed elsewhere... *walks backwards, Soos-style*