Soon I grew warm, and the dust on my face changed into solid and abiding grit.
I was already counting the hours till evening should put a limit to Mr Turnbull's monotonous toil.

Suddenly a crisp voice spoke from the road, and looking up I saw a little Ford two-seater, and a round-faced young man in a bowler hat.
'Are you Alexander Turnbull ?' he asked.

'I am the new County Road Surveyor.

You live at Blackhopefoot, and have charge of the section from Laidlawbyres to the Riggs?
Good! A fair bit of road, Turnbull, and not badly engineered.

A little soft about a mile off, and the edges want cleaning.