Gill led the children to the poles where the beans were climbing. The green tendrils crept up and clasped the firm support, and the leaves clustered thickly around, and the white and scarlet blossoms, not unlike those of the pea in form, shone prettily against the dark mass, and the pods in various stages of growth hung in little bunches.
“Pick only the young, tender ones,” said Gill. “Mrs. Beth shall never say that I take poor, tough produce to market. The pods should be brittle, and break clear of strings. When they are too old, you have to cut away half to prepare them for cooking, and that is a waste.”
“The leaf is not as pretty as the pea leaf,” said Sally, “but it looks something like a little heart, so I think I prefer it.” Gill smiled,—Sally had a way of talking that was very womanly for her age. That came from being so much alone with grown people, and no little sister to share her play and her prattle. Ben was in her eyes almost a man. She looked upon him as next to her father in wisdom. Of course, he never played with her as little girls play together, with dolls and beads, and patch-work; and when Sally was in the house, mother was her chief companion.
CHAPTER IV. GILL’S GARDEN TALKS
WHEN the beans were all picked, Gill pulled some radishes and tied them in bunches. There were the spindle-shaped, and the turnip or top-shaped, white, red, and violet outside; but always white within, and so crisp and nice to the taste. Ben and Sally liked to eat them with salt and bread and butter. Gill told them that this vegetable is healthful, if one is temperate in its use. It is a gentle stimulant and anti-scorbutic. That is a big word; but you may as well learn that it means “against scurvy,” which is a skin disease, and very troublesome to the poor sailors when they have little to live upon excepting salt meats, and are without vegetables. Ben recollected what his mother had read to him about the sufferings of Dr. Kane and his men, when they went to the Arctic regions, and he thought how nice it would have been if they could have had plenty of Gill’s radishes. The Scotchman always contrived to have a succession of these roots, by sowing monthly. He took care that the soil should be loose, and deep. When the heat was great, he watered them often to keep the roots mild and tender. Somehow every thing that Gill planted or sowed came to perfection. Ben and Sally looked with wonder upon the tiny seed as it fell into the place prepared for it.
“It does not seem as if it would ever amount to any thing,” said Ben.
“We shall see,” said Gill; and, sure enough, up pierced the little, tender shoot, and grew to a rough stem of two or three feet high, if left to run to seed, with short hairs upon it, and toothed leaves, and flowers white or purplish in clusters; and, by and by, little pods like a cylinder in form, with a sharp point, and swelling into knots where the little round seeds lay.
The pod does not burst, as some pods do when the seeds are ripe. In China they extract oil from the radish seed, and use it for cooking. Gill told the children that the radish was brought originally from China and Persia. There is the wild radish, or charlock, which grows in our grain fields, and troubles the farmers very much. It has yellow flowers.