Patsy spoke again, and this time she did not say “I wish.� Instead, she said: “I know we could help Mr. Spencer, and the war. Mother, father, please let us do it. I’m sure Ruth and Alice and the other girls will help; and maybe the boys. We can work rows of cotton as well as rows of beans.�
Dick laughed. “H’m! I was just thinking we boys might get together and help Mr. Spencer. But you girls!�
“If we all help, the twenty of us, it’ll not take long to chop over Mr. Spencer’s cotton,� said David. He was more respectful of girls’ work, since he was seeing their flourishing garden.
“Good!� cried Patsy, clapping her hands.
“My dear!� exclaimed Mrs. Osborne. “You don’t mean, Patsy,—are you suggesting that you girls work a crop, like common field hands?�
“They’re very uncommon nowadays,� laughed Patsy. “That’s why Mr. Spencer’s cotton is in the grass. Oh, mother dear! he’s so sick and miserable looking! We would love to save his crop, and we can, if you’ll let us. You heard what father said. It will be patriotic as well as neighborly; with Jeff in the army, too! It’ll not be a bit harder than gardening. Do say we may, mother.�
Finally it was agreed that the young folks might undertake the task. As Patsy said, if they could work rows of vegetables in a garden, they could work rows of cotton in a field. They would use light hoes, and the soil was sandy and easy to work. But it was a big job to undertake, those acres and acres of cotton!
Patsy and Dick and David went to see all the members of Camps Feed Friend and Fight Foe, to enlist them in the little army of crop savers. They were easily persuaded. It was harder to win over their parents. The Malletts and Walthalls and Joneses were unwilling to let their girls “do field work like niggers,� but they consented when they learned that Alice Blair and Ruth Wilson and Patsy Osborne were in the party; whatever the Blairs and Wilsons and Osbornes did was right and proper.
On Tuesday morning, the volunteer workers, with hoes on their shoulders, presented themselves to Mr. Spencer.
“Why—why,� he stammered, “it’s awfully kind of you. But I can’t let you do it, you girls, you young ladies! If the boys will help chop my cotton, and let me pay them——�