“Yes,” replied his father, again.
So Rollo ran off after his wheelbarrow. It had been arranged, between him and his father that morning, that they should work in the garden an hour or two in the afternoon, and that Rollo should pick up all the cuttings from the trees, and wheel them away, and then, when they were dry, make a bonfire with them.
Rollo found his wheelbarrow in its proper place, and trundled it along into the garden.
“Father,” said he, “what trees are you going to prune first?”
“O, I am going to begin at the back side of the garden, and prune them all, advancing regularly to the front.”
“What is the saw for?” said Rollo.
“To saw off the large branches, that I can’t cut off easily with a knife.”
“But I should not think you would want to saw off any large branches, for so you will lose all the apples that would grow on them next year.”
“Why, sometimes, the branches are dead, and then they would do no good, but only be in the way.”