The whole situation, including the prospect of help in finishing a tiresome job, pleased him hugely.

He stole a glimpse from time to time at me then at his father.

Finally he said: "Say, you'll have to step lively to keep up with dad." "I'll show you," I said, "how we used to drop potatoes when I was a boy." And with that I began to step ahead more quickly and make the pieces fairly fly.
"We old fellows," I said to the father, "must give these young sprouts a lesson once in a while." "You will, will you ?" responded the boy, and instantly began to drop the potatoes at a prodigious speed.

The father followed with more dignity, but with evident amusement, and so we all came with a rush to the end of the row.
"I guess that beats the record across THIS field!" remarked the lad, puffing and wiping his forehead.

"Say, but you're a good one!" It gave me a peculiar thrill of pleasure; there is nothing more pleasing than the frank admiration of a boy.
We paused a moment and I said to the man: "This looks like fine potato land." "The' ain't any better in these parts," he replied with some pride in his voice.
And so we went at the planting again: and as we planted we had great talk of seed potatoes and the advantages and disadvantages of mechanical planters, of cultivating and spraying, and all the lore of prices and profits.