“Yes; but complaining that you do not visit us all more often.”
“Very good of them, but I must get on with my work.”
“And I with mine.”
“Oh, don’t hurry away. Stop and smoke a cigar. How’s that boy of yours?”
“Quite well, thank you, Mr Murray.”
They looked up sharply, and there was Frank standing in the veranda looking in.
“Hullo! busy, Ned?”
“Yes. Two more birds to do.”
“Oh, what a bother! I want you particularly. I say, Mr Murray, why don’t you let Amy Barnes skin these little tiny sun-birds? It wants some one with pretty little fingers like hers.”
“Because, sir, it is not fit work for a lady,” replied Murray, shortly.