"Nothing at all, but to go to bed."
"Oh, very well, sir." He went up on the stable-loft, stripped, and lay down, and some one that saw him told the master. He came up.
"Jack, you anointed scoundrel, what do you mean?" "To go to sleep, master. The mistress, God bless her, is after giving me my breakfast, dinner, and supper, and yourself told me that bed was the next thing. Do you blame me, sir?"
"Yes, you rascal, I do."
"Hand me out one pound thirteen and fourpence, if you please, sir."
"One divel and thirteen imps, you tinker! what for?"
"Oh, I see, you've forgot your bargain. Are you sorry for it?"
"Oh, ya—no, I mean. I'll give you the money after your nap."
Next morning early, Jack asked how he'd be employed that day. "You are to be holding the plough in that fallow, outside the paddock." The master went over about nine o'clock to see what kind of a ploughman was Jack, and what did he see but the little boy driving the bastes, and the sock and coulter of the plough skimming along the sod, and Jack pulling ding-dong again' the horses.
"What are you doing, you contrary thief?" said the master.