“Do you think so?” carelessly; “I s’pose they need weedin’. What with my babies an’ all, I don’t get much time for posies.”
“Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to let me come an’ putter around in the beds?” queried the little woman eagerly. “Oh, I would like it so much!”
The other laughed heartily.
“Well, I really don’t see how it’s goin’ to trouble me to have you weedin’ my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would be on the other foot.” Then the red showed in her face a little. “You’re welcome to do whatever you want, Mis’ Gray.”
“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Emily, as she quickly pulled up an enormous weed at her feet.
It took but a few hours’ work to bring about a wonderfully happy change in that forlorn garden, and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile of weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion of them, she started to go behind the house in search of a garbage heap. Around the corner she came face to face with her husband, hoe in hand.
“Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are you doing?”
For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity of his crime; then he caught sight of his wife’s dirt-stained fingers.
“Well, I guess I ain’t doin’ no worse than you be!” And he turned his back and began to hoe vigorously.
Emily dropped the weeds where she stood, turned about, and walked through the garden and up the hill, pondering many things.