"O mother! did you come to see me work?"
"Not altogether, my dear. Nat Cuthbert said there was a pair of wool-cards in the chamber, that he would lend me. Run up, and look for them."
Sammy soon returned with the cards, when his mother said,—
"Had you rather be down here alone, than at play with the boys?"
"Yes, marm: I'm having a nice time."
"What made you throw all those punkins, squashes, and gourds away, my son, after you had taken so much pains to boil and scrape the inside out?"
"'Cause they wasn't the right shape. They had their bigness all in one place. The punkins had their bigness all in the middle, the squashes and gourds at the bottom. They wasn't good moulds, marm."
"Wasn't the moulds the Lord made good enough for you to work from?"
"The Lord don't make bean-pots, mother; he only makes squashes and punkins and such like: if he did, he'd make 'em right, 'cause he makes the beans, flowers, and every thing right. Marm, there's both pots: now which do you think is the best shape? Truly now, marm."