Barney Doyle sat at his cluttered workbench, attempting to fix Olaf Andersen’s ancient power mower for the fourth time in seven years. He had the cylinder head off and was judging the propriety of pronouncing last rites on the machine – he expected the good fathers over at St Catherine’s wouldn’t approve. The head was cracked – which was why Olaf couldn’t get it started – and the cylinder walls were almost paper-thin from wear and a previous rebore. The best thing Andersen could do would be to invest in one of those Toro grass cutters, with all the fancy bells and whistles, and put this old machine out to rust. Barney knew Olaf would raise Cain about having to buy a new one, but that was Olaf’s lookout. Barney also knew getting a dime out of Andersen for making such a judgement would be close to a miracle. It would be to the benefit of all parties concerned if Barney could coax one last summer’s labour from the nearly terminal machine. Barney absently took a sharpener to the blades while he pondered. He could take one more crack at it. An oversized cylinder ring might do the trick – and he