Jim laughed aloud.
"I guess," he said, "if you don't get to be a Squire yourself some day 'twont be for want of asking questions."
By this time the oxen were ready to be backed down the cellar, and Bertie was obliged to wait until another time to find out what terraces were.
He waited till Jim came up and tipped his load of gravel upon the heap, and then he said,—
"I must go and find papa. I'm afraid it's almost ten o'clock."
"I can tell you what time it is," said Jim, looking up at the sun.
"How can you tell that way?" the boy asked, wondering.
"It's half past nine, ex-actly," remarked Jim, drawling out the last word.