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 a great deal pleasanter sitting here in the shade than broiling over celery trenches; and then thinning of wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see 'em starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman. But it is not only the work that I complain of, but being obliged to work just as he pleases. It's enough to spoil any man's temper to be told to dig up those asparagus beds just when they were getting to be the very pride of the parish. And what for? Why, to make room for Madam's new gravel walk, that she mayn't wet her feet going over the grass. Now, I ask you,' continued Tom, still talk-to himself, ' whether that isn't enough to spoil any man's temper?'

'Ahem!' said a voice close to him.

Tom started, and to his great surprise, saw a small man, about the size of his own baby sitting composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green—green hat, green coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.

'Servant, sir!' said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.

'Miserable slave,' said the small man, 'art thou so far lost to the noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere stranger as thy master!'

'Who are you,' said Tom, 'and how dare you call me a slave?'

'Tom,' said the small man, with a knowing look, 'don't speak roughly. Keep your rough words for Rh