“You go to work on it, then, and pile it up against that fence, same as you see this one done. An’ let’s see how neatly you’ll do it. Don’t hurry. What we want in Canada is not so much to see work done quickly as done well.”
Taking Tim to another part of the farm, he set him to remove a huge heap of stones with a barrow and shovel, and, leaving them, returned to the house.
Both boys set to work with a will. It was to them the beginning of life; they felt that, and were the more anxious to do well in consequence. Remembering the farmer’s caution, they did not hurry, but Tim built a cone of stones with the care and artistic exactitude of an architect, while Bobby piled his billets of wood with as much regard to symmetrical proportion as was possible in the circumstances.
About noon they became hungry, but hunger was an old foe whom they had been well trained to defy, so they worked on utterly regardless of him.
Thereafter a welcome sound was heard—the dinner-bell!
Having been told to come in on hearing it, they left work at once, ran to the pump, washed themselves, and appeared in the dining-room looking hot, but bright and jovial, for nothing brightens the human countenance so much, (by gladdening the heart), as the consciousness of having performed duty well.
From the first this worthy couple, who were childless, received the boys into their home as sons, and on all occasions treated them as such. Martha Mild, (her surname was derived from her character), had been similarly received and treated.
“Well, lads,” said the farmer as they commenced the meal—which was a second edition of breakfast, tea included, but with more meat and vegetables—“how did you find the work? pretty hard—eh?”
“Oh! no, sir, nothink of the kind,” said Bobby, who was resolved to show a disposition to work like a man and think nothing of it.
“Ah, good. I’ll find you some harder work after dinner.”