“A hundred pounds!” I cried aghast.
“Well, not more’n that,” said Ike. “Trying to move it, was you? and—why, you’ve smashed that branch off the pear-tree. I say, hadn’t you better cut and run?”
“I don’t know, Ike,” I said hopelessly; “had I?”
“Well, I don’t think I would this time. The ganger perhaps’ll let you off if you pay for it out of your wage.”
“But I don’t have any wages,” I said in despair.
“You don’t!” he cried. “Well, then, you’re in for it. My word, I wouldn’t be you for a crown.”
I stood gazing helplessly from the ladder to Ike and back, half feeling that he was imposing upon me, but in too much trouble to resent it, and as I stared about a robin came and sat upon the broken branch, and seemed to be examining how much damage I had done.
“Well, what shall we do, young ’un?” said Ike.
“I suppose I must go on picking with the broken ladder,” I said gloomily.
“You ain’t going to cut then?”