“Yes; where could we have a garden?� said Steve. “I don’t mind working a little, enough to keep up with Sweet William, if we had a good place.�
There was a pause.
“There isn’t any place. You see we can’t have it,� Dick said triumphantly.
“There is; you can,� Anne declared vehemently. “You may have my Happy Acres that Cousin Rodney gave me. I’ll—yes, I’ll be willing and glad to dig up the flowers for potatoes and things.� Her voice broke and she winked back her tears.
“O-oh!�
“Why, Anne!�
“Of course you wouldn’t!�
“What’s this about digging up flowers?� Mrs. Wilson, coming out of the schoolroom, with her hands full of papers, heard Anne’s last words and the horrified exclamations they excited. “Surely you aren’t talking about dear Happy Acres?�
“Anne wants us to have a garden, a sort of war garden,� explained Patsy.
“We have them in Washington, you know, Cousin Agnes,� Anne said. “We raise lots of vegetables, and it isn’t hard work, with so many to help; and anyway, it’s worth working hard for, to help feed the world when it’s hungry and starving.�