The meal was eaten without any more conversation than was necessary. When it was over, the blacksmith pushed his chair leisurely back from the table and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile.
“Well, lad,” he rumbled, “what would ye say was the next thing to be done by oursel’s?”
“Wash the dishes,” said Toppy promptly, taking his cue from the conspicuous cleanliness of the room.
“Aye,” said Campbell, nodding. “And as I cook the meal——”
“I’m elected dish-washer,” laughed Toppy, springing up and taking a large dish-pan from the wall. He had often done his share of kitchen-work on hunting-trips, and soon he had the few dishes washed and dried and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically.
“Well enough,” he said with an approving jerk of his head when the task was completed. “Your conscience should be easier now, lad; you’ve done something to pay for the meal you’ve eaten, which I’ll warrant is something you’ve not often done.”
“No,” laughed Toppy, “it just happens that I haven’t had to.”
“‘Haven’t had to!’” snorted Campbell in disgust. “Is that all the justification you have? Where’s your pride? Are you a helpless infant that you’re not ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth without doing anything for it? I suppose you’ve got money. And where came your money from? Your father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it came from, they’re the people who’ve been feeding you, but by the great smoked herring! If you stay wi’ David Campbell you’ll have a change, lad. Aye, you’ll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat of your brow. And you’ll bless the day you come here—no matter what the reason that made you come, and which I do not want to hear.”
Toppy bowed courteously.
“I’ve got no come-back to that line of conversation, Mr. Campbell,” he said good-naturedly. “Whenever anybody accuses me of being a bum with money I throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can’t get an argument out of me with a corkscrew.”