170 Tom Seven Years Otd.

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“Go on,” answered he, “hard or easy,
sunshine or rain, till it’s done. You're only
accustomed to play—that’s what it is, Master
Tom.”

“Oh no, ’m not!” said Tom, jumping up,
and beginning to weed again. He did not
like the gardener saying that. He worked
busily, and tried to forget the heat, and to
think of nothing but pulling out the weeds.
By the time he had to go in, there was quite
a large pile to sweep away.

“Look, gardener,” said Tom. The gar-
dener turned round and nodded.

“That's more like work,’ answered he.
Tom felt proud. As he ran into the house,
past the study-door, he heard his papa calling
him.

“How long have you been working ?” he
asked, when Tom went in. “I must know
before I can pay you your wages at the end
of the week. How long is it ?”

Tom looked at the clock; it was just
five. |

“Two hours, papa,” said he: “but I