From four to six, three more stones were laid, and the arduous
labors of the day were over. As I stood looking at the first
course of six stones, my friend, the Tramp, stretched his strong
arms out to their fullest extent and said: "Ay, but it's worruk
that's good for me; give me worruk, and it's all I'll be askin'
fur."
I ventured to suggest that he had not yet accomplished much.
"Wait till to-morror. Ah, but ye'll see thin. It's me hand that's
yet onaisy wid brick-makin' and sthrange to the shtones. An ye'll
wait till to-morror?"
Unfortunately I did not wait. An engagement took me away at an
early hour, and when I rode up to my cottage at noon my eyes were
greeted with the astonishing spectacle of my two boys hard at work
laying the courses of the stone wall, assisted by Bridget and
Norah, who were dragging stones from the hillsides, while
comfortably stretched on the top of the wall lay my friend, the
Tramp, quietly overseeing the operation with lazy and humorous
comment. For an instant I was foolishly indignant, but he soon
brought me to my senses.
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