It would have been an unreasonable person indeed who could have thought ill of Tom. He was so simple and so friendly with all, that he soon became a general favorite. If the men thought of his identity with the cottage at all they probably thought of it good-humoredly in the light of his ready submission to the charms of Audry Ferris. He was rather younger than the rest of them.
“They treat me pretty fine, I’ll say that,” he observed to Ned Whalen one day at work.
“All the world loves a lover,” said Ned Whalen.
“What do you mean by that?” Tom snapped.
“I mean all the world loves a diligent pupil. That better?”
“I’d like to know what you mean by that?”
“Don’t you approve of a good pupil? When I went to school—”
“Yes, that’s always the way you change things around,” Tom said impatiently. “You make it sound as if you mean something else. No wonder they say you’re sarcastic.”
“They? You’re not such a good pupil after all. You don’t know the singular from the plural.”
“Well, she then,” snapped Tom. “And I admit she’s a mighty smart girl. She’s forgotten more than I ever knew, that’s sure.”