"Golly," said Benny, coming out with his once favourite expression, "you're mighty strong!"
"Strong? You should see me lift a bag o' corn! Now, Dobbin, " to the horse. "Gee, meth-a-way," and the horse moved on at what seemed a stereotyped pace.
"'Ave a turmut?" said the boy at length.
" What's a turmut?"
"Lor', now," laughed the boy, "you must be green not to know what a turmut is." And he untied the mouth of one of several bags lying at the bottom of the cart, and took out two, and by the aid of a large clasp-knife had both peeled in a "jiffey."
Putting his teeth into one, he handed the other to Benny, who readily followed his example, and thought he had never tasted anything more delicious.
By the time our hero had finished his turnip they had reached a small village, and Benny was able to get out of the cart unaided. Here were houses at last. Perhaps he might get work here; he would try, at any rate. And try he did; but it was discouraging work.
At many of the houses the door was slammed in his face in answer to his inquiry. At a few places the person addressed condescended to ask Benny where he came from, and when he replied "from Liverpool," he was told to be off about his business, as they wanted no thieves nor pick-pockets in their employ.
One kind-looking old gentleman asked Benny what he could do.
