"Didn't think of it," was Yan's answer.

"Coz we're goin' to live inside, an' need the room," said Sam.

"Why did ye make ten stitches in going round that hole; ye could just
as easy have done it in four," and Si sniffed as he pointed to great,
ungainly stitches an inch long. "I call that waste labour."

"Now see here," blurted Sam, "if you don't like our work let's see you
do it better. There's lots to do yet."

"Where?"

"Oh, ask Yan. He's bossin' the job. Old Caleb wouldn't let me in. It
just broke my heart. I sobbed all the way home, didn't I, Yan?

"There's the smoke-flaps to stitch on and hem, and the pocket at
the top of the flaps--and--I--suppose," Yan added, as a feeler,
"it--would--be--better--if--hemmed--all--around."

"Now, I tell ye what I'll do. If you boys'll go to the 'Corner'
to-night and get my boots that the cobbler's fixing, I'll sew on the
smoke-flaps."

"I'll take that offer," said Yan; "and say, Si, it doesn't really
matter which is the outside. You can turn the cover so the patches
will be in."

The boys got the money to pay for the boots, and after supper they set