The man took his tools with a "Thank you," and went to work. The others watched him furtively, as Jim told Maggie afterwards "from the tail of me eye."
He knew his work. They soon saw that. Every stroke told. The doors were shut at last and the electric lights turned on. Up to the stroke of four the men worked like automatons—chip-chip-chipping. Now and then there was some chaffing, good-natured if rough.
The little Canuck, who by dint of running had caught the car, was working nearby. McCann called out to him:
"I say, Antwine, where you'd be after gettin' that cap with the monkey ears?"
"Bah gosh, Ah have get dis à Mo'real—at good marché—sheep." He stroked the small skin earlaps caressingly with one hand, then spat upon his palm and fell to work again.
"Montreal is it? When did you go?"
"Ah was went tree day—le Père Honoré tol' mah Ah better was go to mon maître; he was dead las' week."
"Wot yer givin' us, Antwine? Three days to see yer dead mater an' lavin' yer stiddy job for the likes of him, an' good luck yer come back this afternoon or the new man 'ud 'a' had it."
"Ah, non—ah, non! De boss haf tol' mah, Ah was keep mah shob. Ah, non—ah, non. Ah was went pour l'amour de Père Honoré."
"Damn yer lingo—shpake English, I tell you."