“Gardens are all right, but the sight of a hoe makes me shudder,” said I.
“The hoe is a good teacher,” he answered. “Man that don't hoe his character ev'ry few days won't have any.”
“My wife hoes mine,” I said.
“An' does it kind o' careless.” He drew his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat and went on as if nothing had happened. “These things are a good deal like folks. Some grow up an' some grow down. I used to know a woman that looked like a turnip, and a gal that was like a flower, an' another that was like a pepper-plant, an' a man that was a reg'lar human onion.”
“A garden always reminds me that it's about time to get your hook and line ready,” I suggested.
He stopped and put his hand upon my arm. He glanced up at the sky, and seemed to note the direction of the wind.
“Say, by mighty!” he exclaimed. “You stop, or you'll make trouble.”