“I can dig dirt, and hoe, and pick oakum, and drive horses, and break stones for the highway, and break flax.”
“What other farm-work can you do?”
“I can mow grass, and reap grain, and plash a hedge, and thrash (thresh) grain.”
“Where did you learn these things?”
“They used to put me out to farmers once.”
“How long was you with the farmers?”
“Don’t know.”
“Mister,” broke in the lank youth, “he don’t know anything. Why don’t you ask ‘em up to the work’us; like’s they know who he is, where he came from, and all about him. They feed him, but he’s so proud he won’t call upon ‘em if he can help it, ‘cause he thinks it’s begging. He might have three good meals there every day if he would, but he’s such a simpleton he won’t go there till he’s starved within an inch of his life.”
Upon this hint the Scotchman, whose curiosity was now thoroughly aroused, taking the lad for a guide, started for the workhouse.