“A public picnic?”
“Sure. A barbecue, we call it,” said Henry. “We have one at the Grove ev'ry year. This time the two Sunday Schools is goin' to join and have a big time. You and Sister don't want to miss it. That Mr. Bronson's goin' to give a whole side o' beef, they tell me, to roast over the fires.”
“A big banquet is in prospect, is it?” asked Hiram, smiling.
“And a stew! Gee! you never eat one o' these barbecue stews, did ye? Some of us will go huntin' the day before, and there'll be birds, and squirrels, as well as chickens in that stew—and lima beans, and corn, and everything good you can think of!” and Henry smacked his lips in prospect.
Then he added, bethinking himself of his errand:
“Everybody chips in and gives the things to eat. What'll you give, Hiram?”
“Some vegetables,” said Hiram, quickly. “Mrs. Atterson won't object, I guess. Do they want tomatoes for their stew?”
“Won't be no tomatoes ripe, Hiram,” said Henry, decidedly.
“There won't, eh? You come out and take a look at mine,” said Hiram, laughing.
Of all the rows of vegetables in Hiram's garden plot, the thriftiest and handsomest were the trellised tomato plants. It took nearly half of Sister's time to keep the plants tied up and pinched back, as Hiram had taught her.