"Well, that's what I call a kernondrum. Ha, ha!—Whey there, Tom; what you foolin' for?—People ain't glad that they lost their property; no, no; everybody's sorry for that, and they could hire any amount of money, and go on again, if they would; but you see they're the greatest blacksmiths; there never was anybody in these parts could temper any kind of an edge tool like as Clement Richardson, 'cept his old dad afore him; and he, they said, took it up in his own head. You take notice 'tis born in 'em, same as a cat carries her navigation in her head. So people say, 'Now Clem Richardson has gone to work agin, we shall have good tools;' and so they feel kind of glad about that ere. They'll have a master sight of work as soon as it's known round, and they'll rise agin. Squire Walker says 'they're bound to.' I heard him tell Dr. Jones. 'Quainted with Dr. Jones?"
"I haven't that pleasure."
"First-rate man. I heard him say with my own ears (that is, the squire), says he, 'Doctor, you can't kill one of them Richardsons, not if you cut their head off;' and the doctor, he says, 'The young sprig, that's been thought to be a sort of baby, is jest as good grit as the old ones, and comes right up to the collar.' Them isn't jestly his words, but that's the upshot on 'em. Then there's two of 'em, and they can carry on both parts of the work. There's only one family to support, 'cause Bob's an old bach, and they're not only brothers in name, but in natur, are well matched, and step alike, jest like them ere leaders of mine; about as good going horses as a man need wish to drive. Reckon you're some kin to the Richardsons."
"No, none at all."
"Maybe you're sparkin' one of the gals."
"No, I never had the courage."
"Reckon you're a college-larnt man, like young Richardson; praps you're a doctor or lawyer, or some sich."
"No, I'm in a business."
"Du tell. What kind of a business?"
"One that pays the best the closer it's followed."