"Let me help you," cried Dick, hurrying forward, "I'd be so glad of a
job!"
The worker looked sharply at him, and at once said, with a sigh of
relief, "I don't mind if you do. Carry them into the woodshed there
and stack them tidy, and I'll give you three-pence. You look honest,
and that's a nice little dog you've got."
"Yes, isn't he? Sit up, Pat!"
The old woman laughed, as Pat stood up obediently on his tired little
legs and begged, and Dick went on, "I don't beg myself, though I am
tramping, but Pat learned to do it before we came."
And encouraged by this friendly notice Pat wagged his tail and
immediately followed the old woman into her bright kitchen and
stretched himself on the gay rag carpet before the fire.
Like her, he kept one eye on the little toiler outside, but Dick had
set to work with a will. He plodded on, making a threefold stack in
the woodshed, with the logs at one end and the blocks at the other, and
all the chips in the middle.
"Must be Lionheart when there's threepence to be earned, even if you
are tired all over," he murmured, as he trudged to and fro. Presently
a cheerful sound of teacups and a delightful smell of toast came from
the cottage, and then the old woman brought out a broom to sweep up the
mess.
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