“Here, Gaffer—let me take that!” So saying, Frodo took the barrow he’d been pushing, steering it past the lilacs toward the compost pile.
Taking out his handkerchief with a gnarled hand and wiping his face, Hamfast Gamgee watched after the young Master. “Him’s shapin’ up well, Mr. Bilbo,” he assured his employer. “A proper thoughtful lad him is!”
Bilbo nodded. Had he tried to do as Frodo had just done, his gardener would have been affronted to think his master felt he wasn’t up to the job. But none seemed to think Frodo other than merely eager to help.