Yet there were only four of them now. How they missed the two absent faces!
Shortly after this they had a letter from Joe. He had actually been at Canton, seen John Chinaman on his native soil in all the glory of pigtail and chop-stick. Such hosts of funny adventures it would have been hard to find even in a book. He meant to cruise around in that part of the world until he was tired, for he was having the tallest kind of sport.
February was very pleasant indeed. Hal stirred up the soil in his cold frames, and planted some seeds. His flowers were still doing very well, the slips having come forward beautifully. On the whole, it had proved a rather pleasant winter, and they had been very happy.
Granny declared that she was quite a lady. No more weaving carpet, or going out to work,—nothing but "puttering" about the house. She was becoming accustomed to the care of the flowers, and looked after them in a manner that won Hal's entire heart.
Easter was to fall very early. Mr. Thomas had engaged all Hal's flowers, and begged him to have as many white ones as possible. So he fed the callas on warm water, with a little spirits of ammonia in it, and the five beautiful stalks grew up, with their fairy haunt of loveliness and fragrance. Dot used to look at them twenty times a day, as the soft green turned paler and paler, bleaching out at last to that wonderful creamy white with its delicate odor.
Outside he transplanted his heads of lettuce, sowed fresh seeds of various kinds, and began to set slips of geranium. On cold or stormy days they kept the glass covered, and always at night. It was marvellous, the way every thing throve and grew. It seemed to Hal that there was nothing else in the world so interesting.
Kit had begun to take lessons on his violin; but he soon found there was a wide difference between the absolute drudgery of rudiments, and the delicious dreams of melody that floated through his brain. Sometimes he cried over the difficulties, and felt tempted to throw away his violin; then he and Hal would have a good time with their beloved Charles Auchester, when he would go on with renewed courage.
After Easter the flowers looked like mere wrecks. Hal cut most of the roses down, trimmed the heliotrope and fuchsias, and planted verbenas. His pansies, which had come from seed, looked very fine and thrifty, and were in bud. So he mentioned that he would have quite a number of bedding-plants for sale.
Indeed, the fame of Hal's green-house spread through Madison. It was a marvel to everybody, how he could make plants grow in such a remarkable fashion, and under not a few disadvantages. But he studied the soil and habits minutely; and then he had a "gift,"—as much of a genius for this, as Kit's for music, or Charlie's for drawing.
But with these warm spring days Hal grew very pale and thin. It seemed to him sometimes as if he could not endure the peculiar wear and anxiety of the school. There were thirty-five scholars now; and, although he tried to keep respectable order, he found it very hard work. He had such a tender, indulgent heart, that he oftener excused than punished.