He kept on at this feckless work till late in the afternoon, and by that time he had filled both bags full with odd bits of stone.  Joe said he hadn’t often had a harder darrack after sheep at clipping-time than he had after that old man, carrying his leather bags.  But, however, they got back to our house, and mother gave the stranger some bread and milk; and after he had taken it, and talked with father about sheep-farming and such like, he paid Joe his five shillings like a man, and told him he would give him another five shillings if he would bring his bags full of stones down to Skeal-Hill by nine o’clock in the morning.

“Are you sleepy Sophy?”

“Oh, dear, no!  Go on.”

Next morning Joe took the bags, and started for Skeal-Hill.  It was another hot morning; and he hadn’t gone far till he began to think that he was as great a fool as the jolly-jist to carry broken stones to Skeal-Hill, when he could find plenty on any road-side close to the place he was going to.  So he shook them out of the bags, and stepped on a gay bit lighter without them.  When he got near to Skeal-Hill he found old Abraham Atchisson sitting on a stool, breaking stones to mend roads with; and Joe asked him if he could fill his leather bags from his heap.  Abraham told Joe to take them that wasn’t broken if he wanted stones; so Joe told him how it was, and all about it.  The old man was like to tottle off his stool with laughing, and he said, “Joe take good care of thysen’; thou art over sharp to live very long in this world; fill thy bags, and make on with thee.”

“Don’t you remember old Abraham, Sophy?  He built the stone dyke at the lower fold.”

“No, I do not remember, I think.”

“You are getting sleepy.  Shall I stop?”

“No, no; finish the letter.”

When Joe got to Skeal-Hill, the jolly-jist had just got his breakfast, and they took Joe into the parlor to him.  He laughed all over when Joe went in with the bags, and told him to set them down in a corner, and asked him if he would have some breakfast.  Joe had had his porridge, but he said he didn’t mind; so he told them to bring in some more coffee and eggs, and ham and toasted bread; and Joe got such a breakfast as isn’t common with him, while the old gentleman was getting himself ready to go off in a carriage that was waiting at the door for him.  When he came down-stairs he gave Joe another five shillings, and paid for Joe’s breakfast, and for what he had eaten himself.  Then he told him to put the leather bags beside the driver’s feet, and into the carriage he got, and laughed, and nodded, and away he went; and then Joe heard them say he was Professor Sedgwick, a great jolly-jist.  And Joe thinks it would be a famous job if father could sell all of the stones on our fell at five shillings a bagful, and a breakfast at odd times.  And would it not be so, Miss Sandal?  But I’m not easy in my mind about Joe changing the stones; though, as Joe says, one make of stone is about the same as another.

“Sophia, you are sleepy now.”