"It'll be all right, Maria," he assured her cheerfully. "By-and-by spring will come with a rush."
Such was indeed the case. Within one week there was a great transformation scene. The wind changed from north-east to south-west, a gentle rain fell on the frost-dried earth; then the rain ceased, sunshine came, and the soft stir of awakening life.
There was plenty of work to be done out-of-doors now. William Brown had the assistance of a couple of old men from the village, and with them he laboured from dawn till dark. On Saturdays Billy worked in the garden too. He helped his grandfather prepare the beds for the small seeds, making the earth as fine as possible, and learnt the different depths the various seeds had to be sown, and not to sow them too thickly.
"You'll make a rare good gardener one of these days," his grandfather told him approvingly; "your heart's in the work, I see."
At last all the seeds were in the ground. The garden at Rowley Cottage, with its trim, smooth beds, was a picture of neatness. The gardens in the allotment field were in a like condition. And now there was a lull in the gardening.
Billy thought the seeds were slow in growing, but his grandfather assured him that they were doing all right.
"But how can you tell, Grandfer?" the little boy inquired. "You can't see them."
"No, Billy," William Brown answered; "I can't see them, but I've faith as to what's going on underground. I've seen too many springtimes to doubt that."
"And what's going on underground, Grandfer?" asked Billy.
"Why," his grandfather said gravely, "a miracle—the miracle of the resurrection. It's too wonderful for us to understand. We don't see the stir of life in the spring, but we see the effect of it in everything—in the budding trees, the flowers, the fresh green grass. It's God's life-giving spirit wakening the world from its winter sleep. We must have patience. We sowed good seeds; bought them from a reliable firm, and they're all right."