The next morning Alek proceeded from his shanty under the complete but
customary illusion that he was going to work. He trudged manfully
along until he reached the vicinity of Si Bryant's place. Then, by
stages, he relapsed into a slink. He was passing the garden-patch
under full steam, when, at some distance ahead of him, he saw Si
Bryant leaning casually on the garden fence.
"Good-mornin', Alek."
"Good-mawnin', Mist' Bryant," answered Alek, with a new deference. He
was marching on, when he was halted by a word--"Alek!"