"Done?" he asked laconically, and Henry Brown smiled with content. "That's a good job jobbed," he replied. "Shifting earth is healthy, sir, but it takes doing." "D'you like it?" said Tony; "I mean, d'you find it interesting and all that, or do you pant after the higher life? More wages and less work, and so forth, I mean?" The odd-job man shrugged his shoulders. "It's my job, sir," he said philosophically. "I can't say it's amazing interesting, but it's my job, and it's got to be done." "Got to be done," repeated Tony, musing. "I suppose it has ... by some one. Thank goodness it's not to be done by me. Tell me, Brown, what do you really think of work? Does it bore you or what? Do you think it's a good thing, so to speak? You needn't mind speaking out--the vicar can't hear, and I'm a man of the world and all that. Tell me, does work bore you to tears?" The other smiled. "Work's kept many a man straight, sir," he said. "I should be sorry to be without." "You really _mean_ that?" asked Tony in surprise. "I do, sir. Don't you think the same?" Tony did not answer, but reflected for at least a minute. Then he took off his coat and turned up his shirt-sleeves with a whimsical smile. "I haven't worked for years," he said: "kept myself fit with developers and other horrors. Lend me your spade, will you? I want a new thrill." Brown laughed, but obeyed. Tony began to dig, steadily and resolutely, at a spot where another post was to be planted. He did not attack the task too vehemently, as many an amateur would have done, for he had brains. But he dug faithfully, and at the end of ten minutes he was more than hot. He did not give in, however, but dug on till the task was accomplished. Then he threw down the spade, wiped his forehead and stretched himself. Brown watched him curiously. "Had enough, sir?" "For the present, yes," said Tony. "One mustn't suck pleasure to the dregs. But I'll admit it's not a bad sort of notion on the whole, this work. In small doses it might even be admirable--a kind of _aperitif_, you know. But, regarded as a habit ... that would need further consideration. Where can I find a tap?" "Behind that fence, sir...." Tony went to cleanse his hands, leaving the odd-job man chuckling. "Rum customer," he murmured: "a very rum customer, indeed. Oh, very rum! Everything's rum, when you come to think of it--more than rum.... Things seem to get rummer every day...."