Pat went from corner to corner and peered critically down into each hole.
"You're the boy, Mike, and that's a fact," was his approving sentence.
Just then the boards came and were thrown off with a great clatter. Mrs. O'Callaghan hurried to the door. "Now, b'ys, what's the meanin' of this?" she questioned when the man had gone.
"Have my rose, mother dear," said Pat.
"And it's a pretty rose, so it is," responded Mrs. O'Callaghan, receiving it graciously. "But it don't answer my question. What'll you be doin' with them boords?"
"Now, mother, it's Mike's plan, but I'm into it, too, and we want to surprise you. Can't you trust us?"
"I can," was the answer. "Go on with your surprise." And she went back into the shanty.
Then the boys set to work in earnest. Four scantlings had come with the boards, and were speedily planted firmly.
"We don't need no saw, for the boards are of the right length, so they are. A man at the yard sawed 'em for me. He said he could as well as not. Folks are mighty good to us, Mike; have you noticed?"