"Wheer be goin'?" he inquired, rising, and following as I made for the gate.
"To the end of the road," I answered.
"Then you be goin' pretty fur—that theer road leads to the sea."
"Why, then I'm going to the sea," said I.
"What to do?"
"I haven't the ghost of an idea," I returned.
"Can you work?"
"Yes," said I.
"Can ye thatch a rick?"
"No," said I.