He did it again. Then he stopped and looked at the fence, put down his brush and sat down. There were hours of work in front of him and he was the unhappiest boy in the village.
After ten minutes Tom had an idea. a wonderful idea. He took up the brush again and began work. He saw his friend Joe Harper in the street. But he didn’t look at him. Joe had an apple in his hand. He came up to Tom and looked at the fence.
‘I am sorry, Tom.’
Tom said nothing. The paint brush moved up and down.
‘Working for your aunt?’ said Joe. ‘I’m going down to the river. I’m sorry you can’t come with me.’
Tom put down his brush. ‘You call this work?’ he said.
‘Painting a fence?’ said Joe. ‘Of course it’s work!’
‘Perhaps it is and perhaps it isn’t. But I like it.’ said Tom. ‘I can go to the river any day. I can’t paint a fence very often.’
Joe watched Tom for about five minutes. Tom painted very slowly and carefully. He often stopped. Moved back from the fence and looked at his work with a smile. Joe began to get very interested. And said: