He listened in silence to the charges to "keep stiddy to work, and git that p'tater-patch wed by noon;" he watched the departure of his tormentor, and went straight to the potato-patch, duty and fear leading him by either hand.

The weeds had no safety of their lives that day; he was in too great a hurry to dally, as he loved to do, over the bigger stalks of pigweed, the giants which he, with his trusty sword--only it was a hoe--would presently dash to the earth and behead, and tear in pieces.

Even the sprawling pusley-stems, which generally played the part of devil-fish and tarantulas and various other monsters, suffered no amputation of limb by limb, but were torn up with merciful haste, and flung in heaps together.
Was the potato-patch thoroughly "wed ?" I hardly know.

But I know that in less than an hour after Mr.Endymion Scraper started for the village the boy John was on his way to the wharf.
As he drew near the river he found that something was the matter with his breath.

It would not come regularly, but in gasps and sighs; his heart beat so hard, and was so high up in his throat he was almost choked.