CHAPTER XII
PUMPKIN PIE
"Oh, Hal!" murmured Mab, as she looked at the queer sticks the farmer had brought. "It does seem like a whip! I wonder if Daddy is going to whip Roly-Poly for getting in the mole trap?"
"Of course not!" laughed Hal. "Daddy never whips Roly anyhow, except sometimes to tap him on the nose with his finger when our poodle does something a little bad. Daddy would never use this big wooden whip, anyhow."
"The farmer-man said he was bringing it to Daddy to whip my beans," went on Mab. "I wonder what he means?"
Just then Daddy Blake himself came on the front stoop.
"Ah, so you have brought the flail?" he asked the farmer.
"Yes, and your little boy and girl here were afraid it was to use on their pet dog!" laughed the farmer, "I guess they never saw a flail before."
"I hardly think they did," said Mr. Blake. "But next year I intend to take them to a farm where they will learn many more things than I could teach them from just a garden."
"Daddy, but what is a flail?" asked Mab.