"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. Sam laughed as he thought of the idea of a cat stealing a hoe, and the deacon smiled at his own joke. Dinner was on the table. It was the fashion there to put all on at once, and Sam, to his great satisfaction, saw on one side a pie like that which had tempted him the night before. The deacon saw his look, and it suggested a fitting punishment. But the time was not yet. Sam did ample justice to the first course of meat and potatoes. When that was despatched, Mrs. Hopkins began to cut the pie. The deacon cleared his throat. "Samuel is to have no pie, Martha," he said. His wife thought it was for his misdeeds of the night before, and so did Sam. "I couldn't help walkin' in my sleep," he said, with a blank look of disappointment. "It aint that," said the deacon. "What is it, then?" asked his wife. "Samuel ran away from his work this mornin', and was gone nigh on to two hours," said her husband. "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? As Sam was reflecting, a way opened itself. He placed his hand on his stomach, and began to roll his eyes, groaning meanwhile. "What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Hopkins. "I feel sick," said Sam, screwing up his face into strange contortions. "It's very sudden," said Mrs. Hopkins, suspiciously. "So 'tis," said Sam. "I'm afraid I'm going to be very sick. Can I lay down?" "What do you think it is, Martha?" asked the deacon, looking disturbed.