"Didn't I tell you to get your catechism?" demanded the old man, sternly. "So I did," said Sam, without blushing. "I am afraid you are telling a lie. Mrs. Hopkins said she went out of the room a minute, and when she came back you were gone. Is that so?" "Yes, I guess so," said Sam. "Then how did you have time to l'arn your lesson?" "It wasn't long," muttered Sam. "Come here, and I will see if you know anything about it." The deacon took the book, laid it flat on his lap, and read out the first question, looking inquiringly at Sam for the answer. Sam hesitated, and scratched his head. "I give it up," said he. "Do you think I am askin' conundrums?" said the deacon, sternly. "No," said Sam, honestly. "Why don't you know?" "Because I can't tell." "Because you didn't study it. Aint you ashamed of your ignorance?" "What's the use of knowin'?" "It is very important," said the deacon, impressively. "Now I will ask you the next question." Sam broke down, and confessed that he didn't know. "Then you told me a lie. You said you studied the lesson." "I didn't understand it." "Then you should have studied longer. Don't you know it is wicked to lie?" "A feller can't tell the truth all the time," said Sam, as if he were stating a well-known fact. "Certainly he can," said the deacon. "I always do." "Do you?" inquired Sam, regarding the old man with curiosity. "Of course. It is every one's duty to tell the truth. You ought to die rather than tell a lie. I have read of a man who was threatened with death. He might have got off if he had told a lie. But he wouldn't." "Did he get killed?" asked Sam, with interest. "Yes." "Then he must have been a great fool," said Sam, contemptuously. "You wouldn't catch me makin' such a fool of myself." "He was a noble man," said the deacon, indignantly. "He laid down his life for the truth." "What good did it do?" said Sam. "I am afraid, Samuel, you are in a very benighted condition. You appear to have no conceptions of duty." "I guess I haven't," said Sam. "I dunno what they are." "It is all the more necessary that you should study your catechism. I shall expect you to get the same lesson to-morrow evenin'. It's too late to study now." "So it is," said Sam, with alacrity. "I will show you where you are to sleep. You must get up airly to go to work. I will come and wake you up." Sam was not overjoyed at this announcement. It did not strike him that he should enjoy going to work early in the morning. However, he felt instinctively that it would do no good to argue the matter at present, and he followed the deacon, upstairs in silence. He was ushered into a small room partitioned off from the attic. "You'll sleep there," said the deacon, pointing to a cot-bed in the corner. "I'll call you at five o'clock to-morrow mornin'." Sam undressed himself, and got into bed.