A short, heavy set man stirred in his seat, and spoke without rising. "I'm only a poor workin'-man, without anythin' to give but the strength of my arm, but I'm willin' to go down and help them fishermen build their smoke-houses. I'm a pretty good carpenter, as you men know.",
"Why he's callin' us all the mean things he knows, I guess," laughed Billy. "We're in his way, you see.",
"What?" The deacon gripped the boy's arm and shook him. "What's that you say?" he questioned eagerly..
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