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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Drift from Two Shores"

Shure, I've as aisy a hand
at it as any man. Maybe yer honor might know of a kill hereabout?"
Now to my certain knowledge, there was not a brick kiln within
fifty miles of that spot, and of all unlikely places to find one
would have been this sandy peninsula, given up to the summer
residences of a few wealthy people. Yet I could not help admiring
the assumption of the scamp, who knew this fact as well as myself.
But I said, "I can give you work for a day or two;" and, bidding
him gather up his sick wife's apparel, led the way across the downs
to my cottage. At first I think the offer took him by surprise,
and gave him some consternation, but he presently recovered his
spirits, and almost instantly his speech. "Ah, worruk, is it? God
be praised! it's meself that's ready and willin'. 'Though maybe me
hand is spoilt wid brickmakin'."
I assured him that the work I would give him would require no
delicate manipulation, and so we fared on over the sleepy downs.
But I could not help noticing that, although an invalid, I was a
much better pedestrian than my companion, frequently leaving him
behind, and that even as a "tramp," he was etymologically an
impostor.


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