"Better borry some more garden, parson; we shall ha' done this 'ere in 'bout an hour and a half," said Harry, grinning; and then--crack! "Look at that for a tool!" he cried, holding up the broken shovel, snapped in two at the handle. "Try this one, Harry," said Jacky Budd, handing his own spade eagerly; "I've got some hoeing to do." Harry took the tool and worked away a little more steadily, with the result that poor Jacky Budd was deprived of a good deal of the work that would have fallen to his lot; a deprivation, however, that he suffered without a sigh. "Now, I ain't agoing to beg, parson," said Harry, after a couple of hours' work, "but my forge wants coal, and a bite o' bread and a bit o' slip-coat cheese would be to raights." "Slip-coat cheese?" said the vicar. "He means cream cheese," said Tom, who had been working away without a word, keeping Jacky busy clearing away the weeds. "No, I don't," growled Harry. "I mean slip-coat, and a moog o' ale." "Shall I go and fetch some, sir?" said Jacky Budd, eagerly. "Thank you, no, Budd," said the vicar, quietly. "I won't take you from your work;" and, to Jacky's great disgust, he went and fetched a jug of ale from his little cellar himself. "He ain't a bad un," cried Harry, tearing away at the earth. "Keeps a drink o' ale i' the plaace. I thowt parsons allus drunk port wine." "Not always, my man," said the vicar, handing the great fellow the jug, and while he was drinking, up came Jacky with his lips parted, and a general look on his visage as if he would like to hang his tongue out like a thirsty hound and pant. "Shall I get the leather, sir, and just nail up that there bit o' vine over the window?" "Get the what, Budd?" said the vicar, who looked puzzled. "The leather, sir, the leather." "He means the lather, sir," said Tom, quietly, "the lather to climb up." "Oh, the ladder," said the vicar. "Yes, by all means," he continued, smiling as he saw the clerk's thirsty look. "I won't ask you to drink, Budd," he went on as he handed the mug to Tom, who took a hearty draught. "You told me you did not drink beer on principle; and I never like to interfere with a man's principles, though I hold that beer in moderation is good for out-door workers." "Thanky, sir, quite right, sir," said Jacky, with a blank look on his face. "I'll get the leather and a few nails, and do that vine now." "Poof!" ejaculated Harry, with a tremendous burst of laughter, as he went on digging furiously. "Well, that's alarming." "What's the matter, old mate?" said Tom. "Nowt at all. Poof!" he roared again, turning over the earth. "Jacky Budd don't drink beer on principle. Poof!"