“For a young lady who has been promoted to a private secretaryship, you are not over-choice in your language, Beatrice.”
“Excuse me, Motherkin, I’ll try. But it seems so long to wait before you know all we have thought out.”
“Yes,” said Roland, “our friends think I can sell a good deal of green stuff. Mr. Brook has lent me lots of books on ‘gardening for profit,’ and his gardener has told me more. He, the gardener, has offered to teach me by overseeing my work, and I shall be very grateful to him.”
“He’s a cranky old soul, Mother. I wonder Roland has the patience to endure his ‘you musts’ and ‘you must nots;’ I couldn’t.”
“No, I should expect little endurance from you—in the patience line, my daughter. That’s your rock of stumbling.”
“Never you mind, Mother. I’m going to blast it out of the way with the dynamite of hard work. See if I don’t! Proceed, Roland.”
“Miss Joanna says that in such a busy household even the youngest is sure to want to do something; so what do you think she has planned for you, Bob?”
“I dunno. I—I ain’t sufferin’ ter do no work. I—I’d rather fish an’ go swimmin’.”
“Yes; but this is a co-operative establishment. Every member must contribute something to the general support. Your share is to be—eggs!”
“Eggs! I ain’t no hen. I can’t lay no eggs, can I?”