Part 8 (1/2)
”Where'd you get that hoe?”
”I'm to work for Deacon Hopkins. He's took me. Where are you goin?”
”A-fis.h.i.+ng.”
”I wish I could go.”
”So do I. I'd like company.”
”Where are you goin to fish?”
”In a brook close by, down at the bottom of this field.”
”I'll go and look on a minute or two. I guess there isn't any hurry about them potatoes.”
The minute or two lengthened to an hour and a half, when Sam roused himself from his idle mood, and shouldering his hoe started for the field where he had been set to work.
It was full time. The deacon was there before him, surveying with angry look the half-dozen hills, which were all that his young a.s.sistant had thus far hoed.
”Now there'll be a fuss,” thought Sam, and he was not far out in that calculation.
CHAPTER VI.
SAM'S SUDDEN SICKNESS.
”Where have you been, you young scamp?” demanded the deacon, wrathfully.
”I just went away a minute or two,” said Sam, abashed.
”A minute or two!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the deacon.
”It may have been more,” said Sam. ”You see I aint got no watch to tell time by.”
”How comes it that you have only got through six hills all the morning?” said the deacon, sternly.
”Well, you see, a cat came along--” Sam began to explain.
”What if she did?” interrupted the deacon. ”She didn't stop your work, did she?”
”Why, I thought I'd chase her out of the field.”
”What for?”
”I thought she might scratch up some of the potatoes,” said Sam, a brilliant excuse dawning upon him.
”How long did it take you to chase her out of the field, where she wasn't doing any harm?”
”I was afraid she'd come back, so I chased her a good ways.”