Digging is hard work, not to be lightly undertaken on a
hot afternoon. Meldon watched him out of sight, and then turned to
Callaghan.
"I'm speaking confidentially to you," he said, "and I hope that nothing
I say will--"
"Take care," said Callaghan, "that you wouldn't wake herself, talking
so loud and all."
Meldon looked at Miss King.
"She seems pretty sound," he said, speaking more softly.
"It's tired she is, the creature,", said Callaghan. "It would be a
shame to wake her, though I wouldn't care myself for the notion of
sleeping in one of them new-fashioned beds."
"What I want to say to you is this," said Meldon. "You know Mr.
Simpkins, of course?"
"I do."
"Is he a particular friend of yours?"
"He is not," said Callaghan. "The Lord forgive me for saying the like!
but I hate him worse than I do the devil."
"I thought you probably would," said Meldon, "and I don't wonder at it.
Any man who works the sort of way you were working when I arrived would
be pretty sure to hate Simpkins."
"Since ever he come to the place," said Callaghan, "there's been
neither peace nor quiet in it. There doesn't a day pass but he's up
here asking why this isn't done, and what's the matter with the other
thing, and whether I couldn't manage to settle up some contraption or
other.
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