"Work?" the fellow drawled through his teeth. "Oh no, there is no work to be got here. How could there be at this season of the year?"
Turning aside, he spat into the rivulet.
On the further bank of the latter, a goose was strutting importantly at the head of a string of round, fluffy, yellow goslings, whilst driving the brood were two little girls—the one a child but little larger than the goose itself, dressed in a red frock, and armed with a switch; and the other one a youngster absolutely of a size with the bird, pale of feature, plump of body, bowed of leg, and grave of expression.
"Ufim!" came at this moment in the strident voice of a woman unseen, but incensed; upon which my companion bestowed upon me a sidelong nod, and muttered with an air of appreciation:
"THERE'S lungs for you!"
Whereafter, he fell to twitching the toes of a chafed and blackened foot, and to gazing at their nails. His next question was:
"Are you, maybe, a scholar?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because, if you are, you might like to read the Book over a corpse."
And so proud, apparently, was he of the proposal that a faint smile crossed his flaccid countenance.