“Nobody said I could go,” answered the boy, firmly. “But I thought you’d all like to have some fish for supper, so I went.”
“Humph! I suppose you thought as how them taters would hoe themselves, eh?” sneered Abner Balberry, who was not only Nat’s uncle, but also his guardian.
“I hoed the potatoes,” was the boy’s answer. “Got through at half-past two o’clock.”
“If you got through so soon you didn’t half do the job,” grumbled the man. “I ain’t goin’ to have you wastin’ your time on no fishin’, understand?”
“Can’t I go fishing at all?”
“Not when there is work to do on this farm.”
“But I did my work, Uncle Abner.”
“An’ I say it couldn’t have been done right if ye didn’t take proper time fer it, Nat Nason! I know you! You are gittin’ lazy!”
“I’m not lazy!” cried the boy, indignantly. “I work as hard as anybody around here.”
“Don’t you talk back to me!” ejaculated Abner Balberry. “I say you are lazy, an’ I know. How many fish did ye catch?”
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