"We haven't anything to do. This farm is the slowest place on earth," added Tom.
"Why do you not study the scientific and agricultural works that I mentioned to you? See what I have done for scientific farming."
"I don't want to be a farmer," said Tom. "I'd rather be a sailor."
"A sailor!" gasped Randolph Rover. "Of all things! Why, a sailor is the merest nobody on earth!"
"I guess you mean on the sea, uncle," said Sam with a grin.
"Don't joke me, Samuel. Yes, Thomas—the calling of a sailor amounts to absolutely nothing. Scientific farming is the thing! Nothing more noble on the face of the earth than to till the soil."
"I never saw you behind a plow, Uncle Randolph," answered Tom, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "Besides, I heard you say that the farm ran behind last year."
"Tut, tut, boy! You know nothing about it. I made a slight miscalculation in crops, that was all. But this year we shall do better."
"You lost money year before last, too," commented Sam.
"Who told you that?"