“Yes, sir.”
“Mend thet barn door! as I told yer to yesterday?”
“Mended it last night.”
“Wot about fixin’ thet scythe yer broke tudder day?”
“I can’t fix that. I’ll have to take it down to Joe Marks’ blacksmith shop.”
“O’ course! An’ who’s goin’ ter pay fer it?” demanded Daniel Hawkins.
“You can take it out of my wages, Mr. Hawkins.”
“Out o’ yer wages?”
“That’s what I said, sir.”
The old farmer’s face grew darker than ever. “Ain’t no wages comin’ to yer! You spile more than yer earn.”