“I do not want to know what you said yesterday,” his lordship answered, tartly. “Take up the billhook and the saw. Now bring the ladder.”
“What I said yesterday,” mumbled Joseph, shambling by the nobleman's side, a little in the rear.
“Joseph Beaker,” said the earl, “hold your tongue.”
“Niver could do it,” replied Joseph; “it slips from betwixt the thumb and finger like a eel. What I said yesterday was, 'Why doesn't thee set thy watch by the parish church?' Thee'st got Barfield time, I reckon, and Barfield's allays a wick and ten minutes afore other placen.”
The aged nobleman twinkled and took snuff.
“Joseph,” said his lordship, “I am going to make a new arrangement with you.”
“Time you did,” returned Joseph, pausing, ostensibly to shift the ladder from one shoulder to the other, but really to feign indifference.
“I find ninepence a day too much.”
“I've allays said so,” Joseph answered, shambling a little nearer. “A sinful sight too much. And half on it wasted o' them white garmints.”
“I find myself a little in want of exercise,” said his lordship. “I shall carry the ladder from the first tree to the second, and you will carry it from the second to the third; then I shall carry it again, and then you will carry it again. We shall go on in that way the whole afternoon, and shall continue in that way so long as I stay here.”