"Am I expected to take care of you, Mr. Simlins, by the same rule?—I came after."
"Well!—I don't know," said the farmer "I guess there'll be nobody to take care of me. I'm past taking care of."
"What does that mean?" said Mr. Linden.
"How would you like the job?" said Mr. Simlins. "Think it 'ud be easy?"
"Why I should like to know a little more about the job before I express any opinion."
"I have an opinion," said Mr. Simlins, "that you don't know much o' farming. Guess it's correct, aint it?"
"What kind of farming?" inquired Mr. Linden again.
"I don't know more'n one kind. Tillin' the earth, to bring out the produce of it."
"I have seen something of another kind," said Mr. Linden; "it is this:—'Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he return and rain righteousness upon you.'"
Mr. Simlins wasn't quick to answer that, and there was silence for a minute or two, only broken by their footsteps.