"I'll fix it for you in half a day—if you'll pay me for it," interrupted Neale O'Neil.
"How will ye do ut? and how much will ye tax me?" queried the cautious cobbler.
"I'd string a strand of barbed wire all along the bottom of the fence. That will stop the pig from rooting, I'll be bound."
The old Irishman rubbed his chin reflectively. "'Twill cost a pretty penny," he said.
"Then," said Neale O'Neil, winking at the girls, "let's turn Billy Bumps loose, and the next time the pig comes in I hope he'll butt his head off!"
"Hi!" shouted Mr. Murphy. "Who's this Billy Bumps ye air talkin' so fast about?"
"That's our goat," explained Agnes, giggling.
Mr. Murphy's roving eyes caught sight of the billy, just then reflectively nibbling an old shoe that had been flung into the pen.
"Is that the baste that shot me pig under the fince?" he yelped.
Billy Bumps raised his head, shook his venerable beard, and blatted at the cobbler.