"Yes," said Sam, "I'm a good deal better, but I don't feel quite so strong as I did." "Mebbe it would be well for you to fast a little," said the deacon, in all sincerity, for fasting was one of his specifics in case of sickness. "No, I don't think it would," said Sam, quickly. "I'll feel better by supper-time." "I hope you will," said the deacon. "I wish I had a piece of pie or somethin' to take the awful taste out of my mouth," thought Sam. "I can taste that wormwood jist as plain! I wonder why such things are allowed to grow." For the rest of the afternoon Sam worked unusually well. He was under the the deacon's eye, and unable to get away, though he tried at least once. After they had been at work for about an hour, Sam said suddenly, "Don't you feel thirsty, Deacon Hopkins?" "What makes you ask?" said the deacon; "Because I'd jist as lieves go to the house and get some water," said Sam, with a very obliging air. "You're very considerate, Samuel; but I don't think it's healthy to drink between meals." "Supposin' you're thirsty," suggested Sam, disappointed. "It's only fancy. You don't need drink railly. You only think you do," said the deacon, and he made some further remarks on the subject to which Sam listened discontentedly. He began to think his situation a very hard one. "It's work--work all the time," he said to himself. "What's the good of workin' yourself to death? When I'm a man I'll work only when I want to." Sam did not consider that there might be some difficulty in earning a living unless he were willing to work for it. The present discomfort was all he thought of. At last, much to Sam's joy, the deacon gave the signal to return to the house. "If you hadn't been sick, we'd have got through more," he said; "but to-morrow we must make up for lost time." "I hope it'll rain to-morrow," thought Sam. "We can't work in the rain." At supper the wormwood seemed to give him additional appetite. "I'm afraid you'll make yourself sick again, Samuel," said the deacon. "There aint no danger," said Sam, looking alarmed at the suggestion. "I feel all right now." "The wormwood did you good," said Mrs. Hopkins, drily. "I wonder if she means anything," thought Sam CHAPTER VIII. SAM'S TEMPTATION. A month passed, a month which it is safe to say was neither satisfactory to Sam nor his employer. The deacon discovered that the boy needed constant watching. When he was left to himself, he was sure to shirk his work, and indulge his natural love of living at ease. His appetite showed no signs of decrease, and the deacon was led to remark that "Samuel had the stiddyest appetite of any boy he ever knew. He never seemed to know when he had eaten enough."