"They need to have the earth loosened around them, and heaped up where it's fallen away."
"It's a lot of trouble," said Sam.
"We must all work," said the deacon, sententiously.
"I wish potatoes growed on trees like apples," said Sam. "They wouldn't be no trouble then."
"You mustn't question the Almighty's doin's, Samuel," said the deacon, seriously. "Whatever he does is right."
"I was only wonderin', that was all," said Sam.
"Human wisdom is prone to err," said the old man, indulging in a scrap of proverbial philosophy.
"What does that mean?" thought Sam, carelessly hitting the deacon's foot with his descending hoe. Unfortunately, the deacon had corns on that foot, and the blow cost him a sharp twinge.
"You careless blockhead!" he shrieked, raising the injured foot from the ground, while a spasm of anguish contracted his features. "Did you take my foot for a potato-hill?"
"Did I hurt you?" asked Sam, innocently.