Summarize the following text to main points and sub-points and make detailed explain for them:

—you wouldn't have thought you'd found everything as you left it. 
But what I vote is, as two of the sensiblest o' the company should go with 
you to Master Kench, the constable's—he's ill i' bed, I know that much—
and get him to appoint one of us his deppity; for that's the law, and I 
don't think anybody 'ull take upon him to contradick me there. It isn't 
much of a walk to Kench's; and then, if it's me as is deppity, I'll go back 
with you, Master Marner, and examine your premises; and if anybody's 
got any fault to find with that, I'll thank him to stand up and say it out 
like a man." 
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By this pregnant speech the farrier had re-established his self-
complacency, and waited with confidence to hear himself named as one 
of the superlatively sensible men. 
"Let us see how the night is, though," said the landlord, who also 
considered himself personally concerned in this proposition. "Why, it 
rains heavy still," he said, returning from the door. 
"Well, I'm not the man to be afraid o' the rain," said the farrier. "For it'll 
look bad when Justice Malam hears as respectable men like us had a 
information laid before 'em and took no steps." 
The landlord agreed with this view, and after taking the sense of the 
company, and duly rehearsing a small ceremony known in high 
ecclesiastical life as the nolo episcopari, he consented to take on himself 
the chill dignity of going to Kench's. But to the farrier's strong disgust, 
Mr. Macey now started an objection to his proposing himself as a 
deputy-constable; for that oracular old gentleman, claiming to know the 
law, stated, as a fact delivered to him by his father, that no doctor could 
be a constable. 
"And you're a doctor, I reckon, though you're only a cow-doctor—for a 
fly's a fly, though it may be a hoss-fly," concluded Mr. Macey, wondering 
a little at his own "'cuteness". 
There was a hot debate upon this, the farrier being of course indisposed 
to renounce the quality of doctor, but contending that a doctor could be a 
constable if he liked—the law meant, he needn't be one if he didn't like. 
Mr. Macey thought this was nonsense, since the law was not likely to be 
fonder of doctors than of other folks. Moreover, if it was in the nature of 
doctors more than of other men not to like being constables, how came 
Mr. Dowlas to be so eager to act in that capacity? 
"I don't want to act the constable," said the farrier, driven into a corner 
by this merciless reasoning; "and there's no man can say it of me, if he'd 
tell the truth. But if there's to be any jealousy and envying about going to 
Kench's in the rain, let them go as like it—you won't get me to go, I can 
tell you." 
By the landlord's intervention, however, the dispute was accommodated. 
Mr. Dowlas consented to go as a second person disinclined to act 
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officially; and so poor Silas, furnished with some old coverings, turned 
out with his two companions into the rain again, thinking of the long 
night-hours before him, not as those do who long to rest, but as those 
who expect to "watch for the morning". 
 
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CHAPTER 8 
 
When Godfrey Cass returned from Mrs. Osgood's party at midnight, he 
was not much surprised to learn that Dunsey had not come home. 
Perhaps he had not sold Wildfire, and was waiting for another chance—
perhaps, on that foggy afternoon, he had preferred housing himself at 
the Red Lion at Batherley for the night, if the run had kept him in that 
neighbourhood; for he was not likely to feel much concern about leaving 
his brother in suspense. Godfrey's mind was too full of Nancy 
Lammeter's looks and behaviour, too full of the exasperation against 
himself and his lot, which the sight of her always produced in him, for 
him to give much thought to Wildfire, or to the probabilities of Dunstan's 
conduct. 
The next morning the whole village was excited by the story of the 
robbery, and Godfrey, like every one else, was occupied in gathering and 
discussing news about it, and in visiting the Stone-pits. The rain had 
washed away all possibility of distinguishing foot-marks, but a close 
investigation of the spot had disclosed, in the direction opposite to the 
village, a tinder-box, with a flint and steel, half sunk in the mud. It was 
not Silas's tinder-box, for the only one he had ever had was still standing 
on his shelf; and the inference generally accepted was, that the tinder-
box in the ditch was somehow connected with the robbery. A small 
minority shook their heads, and intimated their opinion that it was not a 
robbery to have much light thrown on it by tinder-boxes, that Master 
Marner's tale had a queer look with it, and that such things had been 
known as a man's doing himself a mischief, and then setting the justice 
to look for the doer. But when questioned closely as to their grounds for 
this opinion, and what Master Marner had to gain by such false 
pretences, they only shook their heads as before, and observed that there 
was no knowing what some folks counted gain; moreover, that everybody 
had a right to their own opinions, grounds or no grounds, and that the 
weaver, as everybody knew, was partly crazy. Mr. Macey, though he 
joined in the defence of Marner against all suspicions of deceit, also 
pooh-poohed the tinder-box; indeed, repudiated it as a rather impious 
suggestion, tending to imply that everything must be done by human 
hands, and that there was no power which could make away with the 
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guineas without moving the bricks. Nevertheless, he turned round rather 
sharply on Mr. Tookey, when the zealous deputy, feeling that this was a 
view of the case peculiarly suited to a parish-clerk, carried it still farther, 
and doubted whether it was right to inquire into a robbery at all when 
the circumstances were so mysterious. 
"As if," concluded Mr. Tookey—"as if there was nothing but what could 
be made out by justices and constables." 
"Now, don't you be for overshooting the mark, Tookey," said Mr. Macey, 
nodding his head aside admonishingly. "That's what you're allays at; if I 
throw a stone and hit, you think there's summat better than hitting, and 
you try to throw a stone beyond. What I said was against the tinder-box: 
I said nothing against justices and constables, for they're o' King 
George's making, and it 'ud be ill-becoming a man in a parish office to fly 
out again' King George." 
While these discussions were going on amongst the group outside the 
Rainbow, a higher consultation was being carried on within, under the 
presidency of Mr. Crackenthorp, the rector, assisted by Squire Cass and 
other substantial parishioners. It had just occurred to Mr. Snell, the 
landlord—he being, as he observed, a man accustomed to put two and 
two together—to connect with the tinder-box, which, as deputy-
constable, he himself had had the honourable distinction of finding, 
certain recollections of a pedlar who had called to drink at the house 
about a month before, and had actually stated that he carried a tinder-
box about with him to light his pipe. Here, surely, was a clue to be 
followed out. And as memory, when duly impregnated with ascertained 
facts, is sometimes surprisingly fertile, Mr. Snell gradually recovered a 
vivid impression of the effect produced on him by the pedlar's 
countenance and conversation. He had a "look with his eye" which fell 
unpleasantly on Mr. Snell's sensitive organism. To be sure, he didn't say 
anything particular—no, except that about the tinder-box—but it isn't 
what a man says, it's the way he says it. Moreover, he had a swarthy 
foreignness of complexion which boded little honesty. 
"Did he wear ear-rings?" Mr. Crackenthorp wished to know, having some 
acquaintance with foreign customs. 
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"Well—stay—let me see," said Mr. Snell, like a docile clairvoyante, who 
would really not make a mistake if she could help it. After stretching the 
corners of his mouth and contracting his eyes, as if he were trying to see 
the ear-rings, he appeared to give up the effort, and said, "Well, he'd got 
ear-rings in his box to sell, so it's nat'ral to suppose he might wear 'em. 
But he called at every house, a'most, in the village; there's somebody 
else, mayhap, saw 'em in his ears, though I can't take upon me rightly to 
say." 
Mr. Snell was correct in his surmise, that somebody else would 
remember the pedlar's ear-rings. For on the spread of inquiry among the 
villagers it was stated with gathering emphasis, that the parson had 
wanted to know whether the pedlar wore ear-rings in his ears, and an 
impression was created that a great deal depended on the eliciting of this 
fact. Of course, every one who heard the question, not having any 
distinct image of the pedlar as without ear-rings, immediately had an 
image of him with ear-rings, larger or smaller, as the case might be; and 
the image was presently taken for a vivid recollection, so that the 
glazier's wife, a well-intentioned woman, not given to lying, and whose 
house w

Summary :