"Just what I say to myself, by Jingo!"
"Oh, you can swear—that is a manly accomplishment, any how."
"Oh, did I? I beg your pardon, farmer."
"Don't mention it," said the rustic. "I rip out myself sometimes. Thunder and blazes!" he roared to his horse, "can't you be quiet? these devilish Percherons must always be grazing and jerking. Are you lazy," he continued to the lad.
"I don't know. I have never worked at anything but learning Greek and Latin, and they do not tempt me much."
"A good job—that shows that you are not such a fool, as I took you for," said Billet.
His hearer opened his eyes immeasurably; this was the first time he had heard this order of ideas, subversive of all the theories set up for him previously.
"I mean, are you easily tired out?"
"Bless you, I can go ten leagues and never feel it."
"Good, we are getting on; we might train you a trifle lower and make some money on you as a runner."