"You are quite right, Deacon Hopkins," said his wife, emphatically. "He don't deserve any dinner at all."
"Can't I have some pie?" asked Sam, who could not bear to lose so tempting a portion of the repast.
"No, Samuel. What I say I mean. He that will not work shall not eat."
"I worked hard enough afterwards," muttered Sam.
"After I came back—yes, I know that. You worked well part of the time, so I gave you part of your dinner. Next time let the cats alone."
"Can I have some more meat, then?" asked Sam.
"Ye-es," said the deacon, hesitating. "You need strength to work this afternoon."
"I s'pose I get that catechism this afternoon instead of goin to work," suggested Sam.
"That will do after supper, Samuel. All things in their place. The afternoon is for work; the evening for readin' and study, and improvin' the mind."
Sam reflected that the deacon was a very obstinate man, and decided that his arrangements were very foolish. What was the use of living if you'd got to work all the time? A good many people, older than Sam, are of the same opinion, and it is not wholly without reason; but then, it should be borne in mind that Sam was opposed to all work. He believed in enjoying himself, and the work might take care of itself. But how could it be avoided?