Grandfer's wonderful garden

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Good morning," she answered gruffly, turning towards the house.

"Mrs. Varcoe is very ugly, Grandfer," Billy remarked, as, his grandfather having joined him, they went around the house towards the vegetable garden.

"Aye," William Brown agreed, "but she's a good sort—a widow who's brought up a family of boys and made men of 'em!—men of the right kind, I mean. Four are serving their country—two in the Navy, one in Mesopotamia, and one in France. There was another, but he was killed in action at the beginning of the war. The eldest he was. His death must have been a big blow to his mother; but I've never heard her mention it except once."

"What did she say?" Billy asked, much interested.

"She said, 'It's a grief, but there's no bitterness with it. My boy died fighting for the right, and I shan't be ashamed of him when I meet him before God.' It was a brave speech, wasn't it?"

"Yes," agreed Billy, "I think it was."

"Now the first thing I mean to do this morning is to make a bonfire," William Brown said, as they entered the vegetable garden. "You can help me collect all the dead leaves and rubbish lying about. We'll make the bonfire in this corner where there's nothing growing at present."

So Billy set to work with his grandfather. It took them more than an hour to make the bonfire—a huge one. The little boy was allowed to light it, and gave a shout of pleasure as the flames leaped up followed by a volume of smoke.

"Oh, this is splendid!" he cried, "splendid!" A tinge of colour had come into his pale cheeks, and his eyes were sparkling.

"It's burning very well," his grandfather said, smiling at his excitement, "and the smoke's blowing right away from the house—fortunately. I'd forgotten till this moment about the washing—it's always hung out in the orchard at the right side of the house. If the wind had not been blowing the smoke away from that direction the clean clothes might have had smuts on them by this time, and I don't know what Granny would have said—not more than I should have deserved, though, of course. Ah, here comes Master Tom!"