So saying, he put down his cane, took off his hat, his coat, his waistcoat, his collar, and his cravat and his cuffs; he rolled up his sleeves, he turned up the bottoms of his trousers, and then taking an axe, he set to work.
In a few minutes Martin arrived on the scene. “What’s up now?” said he.
“He’s cuttin’ wood for his meals,” replied Matlack.
“I thought you were going to bounce him as soon as he got up?”
“That’s put off until Monday morning,” said Matlack. “Then he marches. I’ve settled that.”
“Did he agree?” asked Martin.
“’Tain’t necessary for him to agree; he’ll find that out Monday morning.”
Martin stood and looked at the bishop as he worked.
“I wish you would get him to cut wood every day,” said he. “By George, how he makes that axe fly!”
When the bishop finished his work he drove his axe-head deep into a stump, washed his hands and his face, resumed the clothing he had laid aside, and then sat down to supper. There was nothing stingy about Matlack, and the wood-chopper made a meal which amply compensated him for the deficiencies of the Perkenpine repast.