“Pretty tol’rable, master,” answered Tuvvy, his long lean fingers moving nimbly amongst the pieces of wood.
“Shall you finish it in a week?” was Dennis’s next question.
Tuvvy’s dark eyes flashed round at him for a second, but he only answered, “Pretty nigh.”
Dennis was silent for a little while. Then he gathered his courage for a great effort, for he felt that it was of no use to beat about the bush any longer.
“Mr Tuvvy,” he said, “I’m so sorry you’re going away.”
“Thank ye, master,” said Tuvvy; “so be I.”
“Why do you?” asked Dennis.
“’Cause the gaffer sacked me,” answered Tuvvy.
“But,” said Dennis, his courage rising, now that he had got into the thick of it, “he wouldn’t want you to go if he could help it. You’re a clever workman, aren’t you?”
“Folks say so,” answered Tuvvy modestly.