"Well, sonny," the man greeted him cheerily, "did ye get yer weedin' done?"
"Y—yes," hesitated David. "I got it done; but I didn't like it."
"'T is kinder hot work."
"Oh, I didn't mind that part," returned David. "What I didn't like was pulling up all those pretty little plants and letting them die."
"Weeds—'pretty little plants'!" ejaculated the man. "Well, I'll be jiggered!"
"But they WERE pretty," defended David, reading aright the scorn in Perry Larson's voice. "The very prettiest and biggest there were, always. Mr. Holly showed me, you know,—and I had to pull them up."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" muttered Perry Larson again.
"But I've been to walk since. I feel better now."
"Oh, ye do!"
"Oh, yes. I had a splendid walk. I went 'way up in the woods on the hill there. I was singing all the time—inside, you know. I was so glad Mrs. Holly—wanted me. You know what it is, when you sing inside."