"You work oncommon 'ard—drownd me if you don't!"
"Pretty hard!" I nodded.
"An' gets well paid for it, p'r'aps?"
"Not so well as I could wish," said I.
"Not so well as 'e could wish," nodded the Postilion, apparently addressing the sledge-hammer, for his gaze was fixed upon it. "Of course not—the 'arder a man works the wuss 'e gets paid—'ow much did you say you got a week?"
"I named no sum," I replied.
"Well—'ow much might you be gettin' a week?"
"Ten shillings."
"Gets ten shillin' a week!" he nodded to the sledgehammer, "that ain't much for a chap like 'im—kick me, if it is!"
"Yet I make it do very well!"