"Why, Eben, I should think you had enough to do already without turning cook. I feel sometimes as though you were rather put upon."
"I'm not afraid of being put upon," said Eben. "I like to see how much I can do. Well, then, I'll go at the flower-beds, if you can just step out and show me a little."
Eben had not been long engaged when Tom Wilbur came into the garden, and with a very ill-used expression went to work hoeing some sweet corn which grew out far from the flower-beds.
"So you are going to gardening too?" said Eben, cheerfully.
"I suppose so," returned Tom, sullenly. "There's nothing doing in the mill, and I was just going off fishing, when the boss came in and sent me out here to hoe this plaguy corn. I declare, I won't stand it! So!" and Tom struck viciously at a large weed, cutting off instead a stalk of corn.
"Take care! You won't do much good that way," said Eben. "I should think you would like working in the garden for a change. I do."
"Well, it ain't very pleasant for a fellow to be bossed round all day, and never have a chance for any fun," said Tom, still more sulkily. "I don't believe any one would like it. I hate the whole thing, anyhow. I wanted to do something different. I wanted my father to get me a place in a store at Hobartown, and he might have done it, too, just as well as not."
"Why didn't he, then?" asked Eben.
"Oh, I don't know. Some bothering nonsense about my being out of the way of temptation. I should have done well enough, but how can I do anything here, when I hate the whole concern?"
"You will have to do as the old Indians did," said Eben.