"Larks be damned," Billy said, "m' tongue's stickin' t' th' roof ov me mouth!"
Again we laughed, while the two men stood looking at each other—speechless.
"Ye can do switherin' as easy sittin' as standin'," Anna said, and Billy sat down. The bogman's story was repeated in minutest detail. The sweep scratched his sooty head and looked wise.
"It's gone!" Anna said quietly, and we all looked toward the fire. It was dead. The last spark had been extinguished. We shivered.
"We don't need so many stools aanyway," Jamie said. "I'll get a hatchet an' we'll haave a fire in no time."
"T' be freezin' t' death wi a bogman goin' t' waste is unchristian, t' say th' laste," Billy ventured.
"Every time we get to th' end of th' tether God appears!" Anna said reassuringly, as she pinned her shawl closer around her neck.
"There's nothin' but empty bowels and empty pipes in our house," the sweep said, "but we've got half a dozen good turf left!"
"Well, it's a long lane that's got no turnin'—ye might lend us thim," Jamie suggested.
"If ye'll excuse m' fur a minit, I'll warm this house, an' may the Virgin choke m' in th' nixt chimley I sweep if I don't!"