Robins were whisking in and out of the tops of the trees, quarreling over the first of the cherry crop. Janice heard Marty's hoe and she opened the garden gate. About half of this good-sized patch was given over to the "'tater" crop; the remainder of the garden seemed—to the casual glance—merely a wilderness of weeds. There may have been rows of vegetable seeds planted there in the beginning; but now it was a perfect mat of green things that have no commercial value—to say the least.
Marty was about halfway down the first row of potatoes. He was cleaning the row pretty well, and the weeds were wilting in the sun; but the rows were as crooked as a snake's path.
"Hullo!" said the boy, willing to stop and lean on the hoe handle. "Don't you want to help?"
"I don't believe I could hoe, Marty," said Janice, doubtfully.
"If you'd been a boy cousin, I wouldn't have minded," grunted Marty. "He and me could have had some fun."
"Don't you think I can be any fun?" demanded Janice, rather amused by the frankness of the youth.
"Never saw a gal that was," responded Marty. "Always in the way. Marm says I got to be perlite to 'em——"
"And is that such a cross?"
"Don't know anything about no cross," growled Marty; "but a boy cousin that I could lick would ha' been a whole lot more to my mind."
"Oh, Marty! we're not going to quarrel."