“It just beats the devil,” he said to himself, “how there is always a serpent getting into a man’s garden to beguile a foolish girl. It ain’t no suitable place anyhow for girls to be dodging around in with their beaux. My mind’s made up,” said he, striking his closed right hand into the open palm of the left. “I’ll wipe out that flower-bed.”
Early the next morning, before the family had risen, Mr. Benton marched into the garden armed with a hoe. He went to the lily-bed and began the work of destruction. Aunt Cindy, the cook, was surprised as she took a view from the kitchen window.
“I ’clar to gracious, de boss is a-workin’ Miss Patsy’s garden!” said she to the housemaid.
“He’s workin’ nuthin’. He’s jes’ a-cuttin’ an’ choppin’ up everything,” said the more observant girl.
“Ef dat ole vilyun is spilen’ dat chile’s gyardin’,” said the cook, “when she fines it out, little Patsy’ll tar up de whole plantation. You listen out when she gits up en comes down-stairs. He ain’t done no payin’ job dis time, I let you know he ain’t dat. Great Gawd,” said she, “Patsy’ll be mad!—eh—eh!”
Jeff Davis, Patsy’s little brother, who was out at the front gate, spied Walter Jones riding past, and called out at the top of his voice, “Come in, old fellow, and take breakfast. Sissy’s asleep yet, but we have killed a chicken, and churned, and opened a keg of nails, and there are three fine cantaloupes in the ice-box.”
Walter could not resist this invitation. He dismounted and joined Mr. Benton on the porch, where that gentleman was sipping a cup of black morning coffee after his labor in the garden.
The dense fog was clearing away, and the sun began to show in the eastern horizon. Patsy came down, and was working up the golden butter, printing it with her prettiest molds. She knew Walter was there. She set on the breakfast table a vase filled with water, and ran out into the garden to get the lilies for a center-piece of beauty and color—for they had actually opened at last.
In a moment everybody was electrified by a terrific scream. The whole family rushed out to see what was the matter. Patsy was wringing her hands and crying. She pointed to the ruined flower-beds, sobbing: “Some wretch has cut up and destroyed all my beautiful flowers!”
“Well,” said Jeff Davis, “it won’t do any good to bellow over it like that, Sis. Breakfast is ready, I tell you. Come to breakfast.”