“Come and see what we are doing,� invited Patsy. “Here are our potatoes; we are giving half of our garden to them. Isn’t the soil fine, and aren’t the rows pretty and even? Cousin Agnes showed us how to lay them off, by a string tied to sticks at the ends of the row.�
“I wish the potatoes would hurry and come up,� said Sweet William, “so I can get the bugs off them.�
“Hey, old scout!� said Black Mayo. “Are you in it, too?�
“Course I am,� was the complacent answer. “I was the first to join. Wasn’t I, Cousin Agnes? I reckon I’ve walked ten miles—well, I know I’ve walked a mile—to-day, carrying buckets of potatoes to the children to plant. Didn’t I, Cousin Agnes?�
“You’ve been helping, dear. We couldn’t get on without you. Nothing in The Village could get on without our Sweet William,� said Mrs. Wilson, kissing him.
He accepted the caress soberly and then said with a little frown: “I reckon I’m ’most too big for ladies to kiss.�
“Ah, Billy boy, you’ll change your mind in a few years,� laughed Black Mayo. “What’s that bag-of-bonesy thing at your heels?�
“He’s my dog; he’s Scalawag,� the youngster explained with dignity.
“A dog, eh? A poor excuse for a dog! Where’d you get it?�
“I didn’t get him. He came and adopted me,� explained Sweet William. “He’s a mighty good dog. See! He’s watching me like he wants to help.�