Hellebore
Fungi of various kinds attack plants. Mildew is a form of fungi.
| For Fungi—Mildew | — | Dust the plant well with Flowers of Sulphur. Bordeaux Arsenate of Lead is used as a spray in early Spring, to prevent fungi, but it is deadly poison and should not be used by children. | |
| For Insects that Feed Under Ground | — | Severe poisons are generally used, the fumes of which kill the insects. Tobacco tea, made by boiling a pound of tobacco stems in a gallon of water, or Ivory soapsuds, if thrown on the ground, will discourage these insects. | |
| For Cutworms, and Insects Feeding on the Surface of the Ground | — | Poison Baits are used: that is, bran or grass is sprinkled with sweetened poison. (Note: It is better for children to use the precaution of paper collars as already explained to Mary Frances in the talk on the Cutworm.) |
There are also many excellent remedies sold by seed firms under commercial or “patent” names.
“Well, Billy,” cried Eleanor, “if I remember one-tenth of the lesson, I’ll be satisfied!”
“And I, too!” echoed Mary Frances.
“If I’d thought,” continued Eleanor, “you were such a wiseacre, Mr. Professor Billy, I’d have brought a note book.”
“Oh, you girls can see my notes any time,” said Billy, pleased with their compliments.
“What I didn’t like, Billy, was the constant reference to ‘children,’” Mary Frances went on.
“Now, little girls,” began Billy, “that is just for ‘Safety First.’ When you are a little older and more experienced in gardening——”
“Oh, Billy, if you tease, you’ll spoil everything!” declared Mary Frances. “Do keep your old poison secrets. I don’t like the idea of killing bugs even.”
“Nor the fellow ‘who needlessly puts his foot upon a worm,’” quoted Billy. “I bet Bob would rather like that lesson, even if you and Eleanor didn’t.”
“I’m going to write down what I can remember for Bob,” declared Eleanor. “May I use your desk, Mary Frances?”
“Nothing could please me better,” answered her friend, leading the way through the play house door.
[CHAPTER XXX]
Early Vegetables
“YOU will tell me, won’t you, Mary Frances, how you started the garden, and how in the world you induced your brother to give you lessons?”
Eleanor looked up from the notes she had made.
“If it hadn’t been for Feather Flop,” began Mary Frances.
“Feather Flop!” exclaimed Eleanor. “Do you mean your pet rooster?”
“Yes,” declared Mary Frances, “he really had a great deal to do with it, although Billy ridicules the idea.”
“I can’t quite understand it myself,” Eleanor said. “I thought chickens were very injurious to a garden.”
“Not Feather Flop! He has been so interested from the very first that I myself have been amazed. Eleanor, you should hear about the cutworms and other insects he has eaten, and the weeds he has taken out of the garden.”
Mary Frances grew excited in being able to praise the rooster to someone.
“He made little piles of weeds at the end of each vegetable patch, and I had to pretend to Billy that I did the weeding, for he’d never, never have believed that Feather Flop did the work.”
“Isn’t it wonderful!” exclaimed Eleanor. “Do tell me more about him!”
“Hush!” exclaimed Mary Frances, “here comes Billy.”
“Hello, girls, want to see something fine?” Billy looked in the play house window.
“Of course!” cried the girls at once.
“Come on out then—follow me.”
Billy led them to the vegetable garden.
“What is it?” asked Mary Frances.
“Just brush a little of the earth away from that radish,” replied Billy, pointing to one of the largest plants.
“Oh, look!” cried Mary Frances, as she pulled the little red ball root, and held it up for admiration.
“Oh, Eleanor, it is ready to eat! The very first thing from my garden. Let’s give it to Eleanor, Billy!”
“Indeed, no!” declared Eleanor. “I think, Mary Frances, you should have the very first of the crop!”
“I know what!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “I’ll cut it up into three pieces!”
“Augh, count me out!” exclaimed Billy. “I don’t want any! Besides, I guess there are several others nearly that size.”
“But no other first ones!” declared Mary Frances. “My, if the garden weren’t to be a surprise, I’d want to divide this with Mother and Father, too.”
“So would I!” exclaimed Eleanor.
“Well, if girls aren’t silly!” Billy looked almost disgusted. “If you want the radish, eat it up. The garden can’t be a secret much longer anyhow, for in a day or two you can pull a couple of bunches of radishes and several small heads of lettuce.”
“Oh, it seems too good to be true!” exclaimed Mary Frances, dancing around in joy at the thought.
“But,” said Eleanor, “surely your parents know you are gardening. Anybody with eyes could see that.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Mary Frances, “they know we are doing some work near the play house, but I asked them not to try to find out anything about what we were doing, and they haven’t come near! They want to be surprised! I know they do!”
“But how did you get the money to buy the seeds and plants?” asked Eleanor.
“Mother gave me permission to use some money from my bank, and Billy loaned me some from the money he won as a prize in school. I have to pay that back.”
“When we sell some of the vegetables,” said Billy.
“You don’t wonder that I’m excited, do you, Eleanor?” cried Mary Frances.
“Indeed I don’t,” said Eleanor. “I wish Bob and I had just such a garden.”
“You can have,” said Billy; “I hope Bob will be able to make me a visit as soon as he has finished being ‘coached’ in his Latin!”
“That won’t be for some time,” replied Eleanor. “Meanwhile, I’ll try to learn all I can about gardening, and we’ll be ready to start in earnest next Spring.”
“Oh, won’t that be lovely!” cried Mary Frances. “I’m so glad you’re here to see our experiment. How soon did you say, Billy, we could take the radishes and lettuce to Mother?”
“About day after to-morrow,” answered Billy, examining the vegetables closely again. “And a picking of peas in about ten days.”
“Oh, goody! I love the vegetable garden almost as well as the flower garden,” cried Mary Frances, “although the flowers are so interesting and are growing beautifully. Come, let us go look to see if any are ready to bloom,” leading the way to the front garden.
“Excuse me,” said Billy; “I’m going fishing.”
“Good luck!” cried both the girls. “Wish you’d take us!”
But Billy pretended he didn’t hear.
[CHAPTER XXXI]
Feather Flop’s Temptation
“QUEER,” said Feather Flop, as he stopped crowing for a moment early the next morning, “queer, that I can never get to see my little Miss alone any more. How I do hate to see company come, for then I can’t get a word with her! Never mind, I’ll go over to the vegetable garden in a few minutes to see how everything is getting along. I’ll crow very loud now; she might possibly hear and come out.”
He flapped his wings and swelled out his breast, and began to crow loud and long.
He looked at the windows of Mary Frances’ room.
“No sign of her yet. Well, I’ll go over to the garden now, and I’ll work hard to help her.”
He walked over to the play house garden, occasionally stopping to give an answer to a neighboring hen or rooster.
“You’re earlier than usual this morning,” crowed the rooster in the next neighbor’s yard.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo,” answered Feather Flop. “It doesn’t take much to beat you! Good-morning, though!” and walked on.
When he arrived at the vegetable garden, he fell right to work pulling weeds from between the rows of onions and peas.
When he came to the lettuce, he stopped his work.
“My,” he said. “My, doesn’t that look good! Oh, how sweet and tender that looks! I don’t believe anybody would miss a leaf or two of the little leaves inside those largest heads.”
He picked at the inside of the largest and most beautiful head in the garden.
“Good!” he ejaculated. “Good! I should think so! I wish I had more!”
“I hope nobody saw me,” he whispered as he looked around. No one was in sight. “Nobody would miss that little peck! I’ll try another head.”
“That’s better than the other,” he said, swallowing the dainty morsel and blinking hard. “I’ll take a little from each of these large heads, and nobody will know anything about it.”
“That’s all I’ll try now,” he decided finally. “I don’t wonder human beings like such stuff.”
He fell to work again and stopped only when he saw Mary Frances and Eleanor come out of the house and go to the hammock. Then he ran near enough to hear what they were saying.
“To-morrow morning,” Mary Frances began, “to-morrow morning I can take in the beautiful lettuce. Oh, Eleanor, such perfect heads. I can scarcely wait one more day.”
“If we hadn’t promised to go over to Cloverdale, we would work in the garden all day to-day, wouldn’t we, Mary Frances?” said Eleanor.
“Eleanor, I believe you love a garden almost as much as I!” declared Mary Frances. “Well, we can’t work in the garden to-day; we must get ready for our little journey.”
“But, oh—lettuce for to-morrow!” cried Eleanor, throwing her arm around Mary Frances’ waist as they skipped up the walk into the house.
Feather Flop watched them from behind the tree where he was hiding. “Maybe I oughtn’t to have touched it after all,” he said.
[CHAPTER XXXII]
Feather Flop Gets Angry
FEATHER FLOP was in the vegetable garden the next morning long before the children came for the radishes and lettuce.
When he saw them coming, he ran around a corner of the play house, where he could hear every word, but could not be seen.
“Oh, Billy,” cried Mary Frances, happily, “isn’t this just fine! Eleanor and I will pull the radishes and you can get the lettuce.”
Eleanor began to help Mary Frances, and Billy went to the lettuce bed.
“Well, of all things!” He shouted so loud both the girls jumped.
“What in the world’s the matter?” Mary Frances dropped the radishes she had in her hand.
“Matter!” roared Billy. “Matter! That old rooster of yours has eaten the hearts of the lettuce! That’s all! Darn him!”
“Oh, Billy, don’t use such language!” cried Mary Frances. “Maybe he didn’t do it. Maybe it was a cutworm or a sparrow, or—or—”
“Look here!” demanded Billy. “Who took that bite?” pointing to a hole in the lettuce just the size of Feather Flop’s beak.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mary Frances, “I’m afraid it was Feather Flop! Oh, how could he have done such a thing!”
“That’s not the only one!” went on Billy, examining further. “Every one of these big heads has just such a bite taken out!”
“What shall we do!” exclaimed Eleanor. “What a disappointment!”
“I’m ready to cry!” said Mary Frances. “I wonder if any of it is fit to use!”
“Yes,” answered Billy, “of course, you can use some of the leaves, but the beauty of each head is spoiled! Here, you girls take these things to the house.”
“Where are you going?” asked Mary Frances.
“I’m going hunting—hunting for a bird!” replied Billy grimly.
“Oh, don’t hurt him!” called the girls.
“Not if I can help it,” said Billy.
“What are you going to do with him?” again called Mary Frances.
“Come help me catch him, and you’ll see. I’m going to make a prisoner of him!” Billy just then caught sight of Feather Flop as he half ran and half flew across the lawn.
The rooster gave them a long chase, but finally Billy caught him and tucked him under his arm.
Feather Flop meanwhile kept up an incessant chatter.
“We know you’re not pleased, old fellow,” said Billy as he put him into a coop and held it down, “but you’re going to be put into a safe place. No pleading off for you! Now, I’ve got you fixed.”
“Yes, you bad boy!” said Mary Frances.
At twilight, however, a little girl crept out with a plate of lettuce to the old hen-coop where Feather Flop was prisoner.
“Feather Flop,” Mary Frances whispered softly, “Feather Flop!” but there was no answer.
She stooped down and looked into the coop. At first she didn’t see the rooster, then she espied him leaning up close to the farthest corner.
“Why, Feather Flop,” she exclaimed, “are you ill? Why didn’t you answer?”
“I’m not sick,” muttered Feather Flop.
“Why, what is the matter then, old fellow?” said Mary Frances.
“Are you going to let me out?” asked the rooster sullenly.
“Not to-night, Feather Flop, I’m afraid. I think, myself, you need a little punishment. Tell me, why did you do it?”
“I’ll not answer,” said Feather Flop. “I’m mad!”
“Oh, Feather Flop!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Oh, Feather Flop! You did wrong, and now you’re angry! What is the matter with you? You used to be so nice!”
“Oh, let me alone,” answered the rooster.
“All right, then,” said Mary Frances. “All right! I’m going away now.”
“I don’t care! You could have saved me from being a jail bird!” said Feather Flop, turning tail.
“Excuse me, I don’t care to answer another word!” he declared, putting his head under his wing.
Just then her mother called her, and Mary Frances had to leave him to go into the house.
“Poor old Feather Flop!” murmured the little girl. “Maybe I should have saved him from being locked up like a real thief! I don’t believe he meant to be so bad!”
[CHAPTER XXXIII]
Father and Mother’s Surprise
“PERHAPS you suspected, Mother dear,” said Mary Frances after showing the radishes and lettuce, and telling about the garden lessons Billy had taught her. “Perhaps you and Father suspected we were gardening.”
“We had an idea that something was being done in that line,” smiled her mother, “but we did just as you requested. We didn’t try to find out.”
“Wasn’t that dear!” exclaimed Eleanor. “I think Mary Frances has such wonderful experiences!”
“She has had a happy life,” said the mother, looking sympathetically at Mary Frances’ little friend, for Eleanor’s mother had died two years before.
Only for a few moments did the tears stand in Eleanor’s eyes, then she said:
“Mary Frances has been so good about sharing her splendid times with me. Do you remember the cooking lessons, and the sewing lessons, and Mrs. Paper Doll’s housekeeping lessons, girlie?”
“They’re not so far past that you can’t remember,” smiled Mary Frances’ mother, “but you girls are growing up fast. I hope that, even when you are young ladies, you will delight in just such lessons as you have already had.”
“I feel sure I shall,” declared Mary Frances.
“I do, too,” said Eleanor.
“Play lessons,” went on the mother, “keep fun in your hearts and ‘fun keeps one young,’ you know.”
“Well, these garden lessons were fun,” said Mary Frances, “but they had a great deal of hard work attached. Oh, Mother dear, I’ll ask you what I meant to! May we serve the lettuce and radishes for dinner, and not say a word to Father about them? Then, perhaps he’ll say, ‘What fine radishes! What tender lettuce! Where did you get them, Mother?’ Oh, wouldn’t I just love that to happen!”
“I don’t doubt that he will say it, Mary Frances! I would, I know, for I’ve not seen any so fine this year,” replied her mother.
“I have the radishes all washed and ready for the table,” said Eleanor. “Shall I put them on?”
Mary Frances nodded.
“Just put them in the refrigerator until nearer the meal hour,” said her mother, “then they’ll get more crisp!”
“How about this lettuce?” asked Mary Frances, who had it well washed by this time. “Feather Flop didn’t hurt it so much after all,” she said to herself. “I don’t think I’ll say anything about what he did.”
“Put it in this glass-covered dish and place it on the ice to make it crisp in the same way.”
“Here comes Father!” exclaimed Mary Frances, and she and Eleanor ran to meet him.
“Dinner’s about ready, Father,” said the mother, greeting him and nodding her head to the girls to put their “surprise” on the table.
“Billy will be here in a minute,” he replied. “I saw him as I turned in the walk. There he is, now.”
“Why,” he exclaimed, as he looked at the table, “where did these beautiful little red radishes come from? We haven’t seen such beauties this year! And that lettuce! Who’s been sending in such a treat?”
Mary Frances was delighted.
“It’s our surprise!” she explained. “They are from my own garden, Father!” and she told about the lessons.
At least she tried to tell, but Billy, and Eleanor, too, helped in telling the story.
“Such interesting lessons, Father!” said Mary Frances. “My, I had no idea gardening is so wonderful.”
“Fine!” exclaimed her father. “Billy boy, I see it paid to send you to a practical school.”
“I wish,” said Eleanor, “that Bob was going to study gardening, too.”
“Can’t you persuade your father to send him away to Billy’s school this Fall?”
“Wouldn’t that be splendid!” exclaimed Eleanor. “I never thought of it. I’ll try my best!”
“But, Father, you and Mother both had an idea of what we were about, hadn’t you?” asked Billy.
“We knew ‘something was up,’ Billy,” smiled his father, “but we didn’t know radishes and lettuce were.”
Everybody laughed.
“Now, that we’re all in the secret,” Mary Frances declared happily, “I like it better than ever.”
“Father can give us a lot of information I don’t know a bit about,” said Billy.
“I believe Mother knows a lot she’s not telling,” said Mary Frances.
“Father, won’t you give us some lessons on the wild flowers?” asked Billy.
“That would be delightful,” his mother said. “We could all share in such lessons. For instance, some day soon we could all take a walk in the woods.”
“Won’t that be a picnic!” Billy was enthusiastic. “When shall we go? Can’t you make a holiday of it, Father? Let us take our lunch.”
“If it suits all parties, we’ll go day after to-morrow,” said his father.
“It just suits me!” declared Billy.
“It just suits me!” echoed Mary Frances.
“It just suits me!” said Eleanor.
“How about you, Mother?” asked the father.
“It will charm me to accept the invitation,” smiled the mother.
“Don’t you girls oversleep!” warned Billy.
“Oh, Billy, we’re not the sleepy-heads!” laughed Mary Frances, shaking her finger at Billy.
[CHAPTER XXXIV]
Feather Flop Makes Up
“UNLESS you speak to me, Feather Flop,” said Mary Frances, when she took his breakfast to the coop next morning, “unless you speak to me, I am not coming out again! I’m going to get Billy to bring you your food,” and she turned away.
Feather Flop stuck his head between the slats of the coop, and a tear rolled out of each eye.
“Oh, please don’t go away,” he begged. “I’m so awfully ashamed of myself I don’t know what to say. That’s the reason I didn’t answer.”
“You poor dear old Feather Flop,” cried Mary Frances, opening the slats. “You poor old fellow!”
“I’m so awfully ashamed,” went on the rooster, “that I’d gladly have you chop my head off and make a potpie of me.”
“Oh, Feather Flop, don’t feel quite so bad as that,” exclaimed Mary Frances. “I forgive you, my friend.”
For the first time, Feather Flop looked up.
“Do you?” he asked. “Please tell me again.”
“I forgive you, Feather Flop,” repeated Mary Frances, gathering him up in her arms. “The lettuce wasn’t so badly hurt, after all.”
“My, I’m so thankful,” said Feather Flop, “though I don’t see how you can forgive me. Are you certain that you do?”
“Very certain!” smiled Mary Frances. “As certain as I am that you’ll never do such a thing again!”
“Never again!” solemnly declared Feather Flop, holding up one claw. “Never again!”
“Well, now, eat your breakfast,” said Mary Frances, putting him down and gently stroking his beautiful feathers.
“I—haven’t—eaten—a—beakful,” said Feather Flop between hungry pecks, “since—I—was—put—in—prison,—so—you—can—imagine—how—awfully—hungry—I—am.”
“Indeed I can,” laughed Mary Frances, delighted to see him his own self again.
“Does being forgiven always make a person feel hungry?” asked Feather Flop.
“Well, being unforgiven makes a person feel very unhungry,” said Mary Frances.
“A strange thing about me, I guess,” said Feather Flop, “is, that after I’ve eaten a full meal, I’m not hungry.”
“Of course not,” laughed Mary Frances. “Nobody ever is.”
“It’s very sad, though,” declared the rooster.
“Why,” began Mary Frances, “I don’t see anything sad about that.”
“It’s sad, because it’s so much fun to be hungry and eat. I’d like to eat every minute myself—when I’m forgiven.”
“You do pretty well, Feather Flop,” said Mary Frances. “I wouldn’t complain. It’s far worse to be hungry and not to be able to get food.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Feather Flop.
“What’s the next lesson?” he asked abruptly.
“Next lesson?” echoed Mary Frances. “Oh, about roses. Isn’t that a nice one?”
“Call on me for anything I can do,” said Feather Flop. “I’d starve a year and a half before I’d touch anything good in the garden again.”
“Oh, thank you, my friend,” said Mary Frances. “Thank you! I’ll call upon you, never fear. I must go now, though.”
“Shake hands?” asked Feather Flop, holding out his claw. “Just to show real forgiveness.”
“Certainly,” said Mary Frances, taking his claw in her hand and shaking it in a most serious fashion.
As much as she wanted to, she did not smile.
[CHAPTER XXXV]
Roses
“VERY many people love roses more than any other flowers,” began Billy, “and Miss Gardener explained to us that for this reason, rose growing has become a specialty among professional floriculturists.”
“Mercy, Billy,” interrupted Mary Frances, “please explain those last two long words.”
“‘Professional floriculturists,’” explained Billy, “are men who raise flowers as a profession or business.”
“Thank you,” said Eleanor.
The children were in the rose arbor, where the girls had begged him to give them a lesson on roses.
“Because,” Eleanor had said, “roses are my favorite flowers.”
“Mine, too, except violets,” Mary Frances had added.
“The result of this specializing,” resumed Billy, “is that there are many beautiful new kinds of roses constantly being introduced into our country, for while a good many new roses have been produced here, the most have been produced by growers across the ocean, in Ireland and France.”
“I never knew that,” exclaimed Eleanor. “I thought that roses were—just roses.”
“So did I!” declared Mary Frances. Then suddenly, “Oh, here comes mother! Don’t stop talking, Billy! Mother will love to hear!”
“Oh, I don’t think—” began Billy.
“Please let me listen, Son,” interrupted his mother’s pleasant voice. “You know how I love roses, I would certainly appreciate hearing what you learned from your teachers about them.”
“Well, all right, Mother,” said Billy, “but I’ll stick more closely to my notes than I generally do, since we are honored by your presence.”
The girls made room for her on the arbor seat, and Billy opened his note book.
“Here is the place,” he said in a moment. “Here commences the lesson on Roses—