know their business well. It is not a mere matter of strength
getting on quickly with such work; is it, guest?"

"I should think not," said I, "but to tell you the truth, I have
never tried my hand at it."

"Really?" said he gravely, "that seems a pity; it is good work for
hardening the muscles, and I like it; though I admit it is pleasanter
the second week than the first. Not that I am a good hand at it:
the fellows used to chaff me at one job where I was working, I
remember, and sing out to me, 'Well rowed, stroke!' 'Put your back
into it, bow!'"

"Not much of a joke," quoth I.

"Well," said Dick, "everything seems like a joke when we have a
pleasant spell of work on, and good fellows merry about us; we feels
so happy, you know." Again I pondered silently.



CHAPTER VIII: AN OLD FRIEND



We now turned into a pleasant lane where the branches of great plane-
trees nearly met overhead, but behind them lay low houses standing
rather close together.

"This is Long Acre," quoth Dick; "so there must once have been a