“Here, my boy!� said Mr. Osborne. “It isn’t a sign of wisdom or experience to be scornful of girls and women. You may do better work than the girls; and then again you may not. Time will prove. Suppose you keep a record of your work and have a competitive exhibition of garden products this autumn. I’ll give a prize, the silver cup I cut my teeth on, to the best gardeners.�
“Fine!� said Steve. “That cup is as good as ours.�
“‘There’s many a slip
’Twixt cup and lip,’�
Patsy reminded him, with a saucy tilt of her chin.
Mr. Osborne laughed. “Well, while I loaf here, my work’s getting no forwarder. I must go home. By the way, Agnes, I have two or three bushels of potatoes for you that I’ll send——�
“But, Mayo, you can’t spare——�
“Neither could you,� he said, looking at the war-garden rows. “G’by! Oh, I was forgetting the pigeon I brought Dick.� He picked up his basket. “Poor hungry bird!�
“Hungry? Let me feed it,� said Mrs. Wilson. “Here are a few peas left in my seed box.�
“Oh, no! no, thank you,� he answered. “It is a racing pigeon that I’m beginning to train. It must start off hungry, so it will fly home to be fed.�