"Mr. Stone, you've got cabbages! The text says, 'Of all that Thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto Thee.' You must give a tenth of your cabbages to God. Oh, do, won't you? And then you can join us. How many tens have you got? Let us go through, and mark every tenth cabbage off for God. That's the way to do it. How shall we mark them? Will Sam let us have some of that red worsted he ties up his roses with? I'll ask him. Just wait a minute. I know how to do it!"
Jill flew into the house breathless and excited without waiting for the old man's reply. She returned triumphant with her ball of red wool. "Sam thinks it will be very nice. I told him. And you know, Mr. Stone, God did give the cabbages to you. He made them grow, you didn't!"
The old man looked at her queerly. Then he fetched his pipe out of his pocket and began to smoke.
"Them cabbages fetch three-halfpence each in the market, and cheap at the price," he said.
Jill marched along the first row until she arrived at the tenth cabbage, then she broke off a piece of her red wool and tied it through one of the leaves.
"There, Mr. Stone, that's God's cabbage. Now, I'll go on to the next, and then you'll know how many you will have to give."
"What am I to do wi' 'em, missy. Take 'em to church?"
Jill sat down on an old wheelbarrow to consider. "Why," she said presently with a beaming smile, "when you take up a cabbage with a piece of red wool on it, you must sell it for God, and put the money in a little bag, and then give it to the poor."
"P'raps," said the old man with a chuckle, "it will find its way back into my pocket, for I'm a very poor old body, very poor indeed!"