“Won’t it live if I plant it in a box?” asked Cassy, this new hope causing her tears to cease.
“I’m afraid not.”
“I’ll get even with Billy Miles,” muttered Jerry; then louder he said, “Cheer up, Cass; I’ll get you a real, righty flower, see if I don’t.” He looked at his mother for encouragement.
“How will you do it?” asked Cassy, interested.
“Never you mind. I will, honest, I will. I’ll tell mother.” And drawing Mrs. Law to one side he confided to her his plan.
All day long Jerry was absent, and when Cassy asked where he was, her mother only smiled, though if the truth were known he was not very far away, for he was keeping watch by the gate in the garden wall. If that gardener should but once appear Jerry knew well what he meant to do. He did not come home even to dinner, but munched a crust he had stuffed in his pocket, and kept his eye on the gate.
“He might just be coming out to dinner now,” the boy murmured to himself, “and I’d be sure to miss him if I left.” But no gardener appeared till late. The clock had struck six and the streets were full of workmen returning to their homes when the gate did open and out stepped the gardener, dinner bucket in hand. He had no sooner appeared than Jerry met him, outwardly as bold as a lion, but inwardly anxious.
“Mr. Gardener,” he began.
The man scowled down at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Out with it.”