"To the store, sir."

"So am I. Ef you ain't in a hurry, le'ss walk along together."

"All right, sir," answered Ben. "I think I know what's comin," he
said to himself.

"You're stayin' at your Uncle Job's, ain't you?" asked Deacon
Pitkin.

"Yes, sir."

"You don't calc'late to keep on there, do you?"

"No, sir; he would like to have me stay and work in the shop, but I
don't fancy shoemaking."

"Jest so. I wouldn't ef I was you. It's an onsartin business.
There's nothin' like farmin' for stiddy work."

"The old man kept me at work pretty stiddy," thought Ben. "He'd
always find something for me to do."

"'Ive been thinkin' that I need a boy about your age to help me on
my farm. I ain't so young as I was, and I've got a crick in my back.
I don't want a man-"

"You'd have to pay him too high wages," Ben said to himself.