It speedily came out that Puff had indeed a sound reason for denying himself that day’s sport on the water. The experience of the previous day and the suggestions of Pat Murphy that morning had borne quick fruit in the shape of a commencement on another boat.
“I’ve named the old one Mary,” he said, “arter my wife, and I reckon you may name this one.”
“When it’s built,” said Bar. “But it’s a wonder you never thought of it before. You can make money at it.”
“P’r’aps,” said Puff, drily, “but I’d no idea I’d inj’ye it so much as I hev. Might ha’ known it, too. I was jest as happy a-buildin’ the Mary. When a man finds a piece of real work in which he can be just happy, that’s the kind of thing God meant him for most likely, and he’d better go ahead and do it, if he can do it honestly.”
But Bar and Val were too full of their own ideas to linger very long in looking at Puff’s boat, and Bar found his ideas caught up and put into shape with a readiness of perception and a swiftness of execution which altogether surprised him.
“You’ll make a perfect job of it,” said Bar. “What do you think it will be worth?”
“Worth?” inquired Puff.
“Yes,” said Bar. “What are we to pay you for it?”
“Why,” replied Puff, with a darkening brow, “didn’t you tell me it was a big joke on Ogleport?”
“Yes,” began Bar.