"Fine," responded the man rather shortly, glancing up from his
work. I recalled the scores of times I had been exactly in his
place, and had glanced up to see the stranger in the road.

"Got another basket handy?" I asked.

"There is one somewhere around here," he answered not too
cordially. The boy said nothing at all, but eyed me with
absorbing interest. The gloomy look had already gone from his
face.

I slipped my gray bag from my shoulder, took off my coat, and put
them both down inside the fence. Then I found the basket and
began to fill it from one of the bags. Both man and boy looked up
at me questioningly. I enjoyed the situation immensely.

"I heard you say to your son," I said, "that you'd have to hurry
in order to get in your potatoes to-day. I can see that for
myself. Let me take a hand for a row or two."

The unmistakable shrewd look of the bargainer came suddenly into
the man's face, but when I went about my business without
hesitation or questioning, he said nothing at all. As for the
boy, the change in his countenance was marvellous to see.
Something new and astonishing had come into the world. Oh, I
know what a thing it is to be a boy and to work in trouting time!

"How near are you planting, Ben?" I asked.

"About fourteen inches."