“What can you do? And what are you willing to do?” said a man who was the overseer of other men, and whom John had seen several times at the place where his work was done. John answered:
“I am willing to do anything. And I think I could break stones.”
“I think I see you!” said the man with a shrug.
“I only wish I had a chance to show you. I think I might even chip awa’ at cutting them, to as good purpose as some of those lads yonder.”
“Here, Sandy,” said the overseer. “Gie this lad your hammer, and let him try his hand, for the fun o’ the thing.”
The man laughed, but John Beaton was in earnest. In a minute his coat was off, and he set to work with a will. He needed a hint or two, and he got them, with a little banter thrown in. The lad stuck to his work, and could, as his friend said, “do no’ that ill.” He had perhaps inherited the power to do the work, since he could do it, he thought, and he asked leave to come again in the morning.
“Ye hae earned your shilling,” said the overseer, when it was time to go, and he held one out to John. He hardly expected the lad to take it, but he took it gladly, and looked at it, the man thought, in a curious way.
“Is it the first shilling ye ever earned?” said he.
“The very first! May I come back to-morrow?”
“O, ay! gin ye like; but I should think that this is hardly the kind o’ work ye’re best fitted for.”