"You hurt me like thunder," gasped the deacon, using, in his excitement, words which in calmer moments he would have avoided.
"I didn't think it was your foot," said Sam.
"I hope you'll be more careful next time; you most killed me."
"I will," said Sam.
"I wonder if it isn't time for dinner," he began to think presently, but, under the circumstances, thought it best not to refer to the matter. But at last the welcome sound of the dinner-bell was heard, as it was vigorously rung at the back door by Mrs. Hopkins.
"That's for dinner, Samuel," said the deacon. "We will go to the house."
"All right!" said Sam, with alacrity, throwing down the hoe in the furrow.
"Pick up that hoe, and carry it with you," said the deacon.
"Then we won't work here any more to-day!" said Sam, brightening up.
"Yes, we will; but it's no way to leave the hoe in the fields. Some cat might come along and steal it," he added, with unwonted sarcasm.