"Oh, Tim! look at this mess," he said in disgust.
"Never mind!" said Tim, "let her rip. Better stick one in though.
Blanks look bad at the END of the drill." So saying, he made a hole in
Cameron's drill and with his hoe dug up a bunch of plants from
another drill and patted them firmly into place, and, weeding out the
unnecessary plants, left a single turnip in its proper place.
"Oh, come, that isn't so bad," said Cameron. "We can always fill up the
blanks."
"Yes, but it takes time," replied Tim, evidently with the racing fever
in his blood. Patiently Tim schooled his pupil throughout the forenoon,
and before the dinner hour had come Cameron was making what to Tim
appeared satisfactory progress. It was greatly in Cameron's favor that
he possessed a trained and true eye and a steady hand and that he was
quick in all his movements.
"You're doin' splendid," cried Tim, full of admiration.
"I say, Scotty!" said Perkins, coming up and casting a critical eye
along Cameron's last drill, "you're going to make a turnip-hoer all
right."
"I've got a good teacher, you see," cried Cameron.
"You bet you have," said Perkins. "I taught Tim myself, and in two or
three years he'll be almost as good as I am, eh, Tim!"
"Huh!" grunted Tim, contemptuously, but let it go at that.
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