Mary Frances put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing aloud as she looked at the little round hole the rooster had made.
“You do splendidly,” she said, “and to-morrow morning I’ll be here bright and early.”
“Just one question,” called Feather Flop. “Is the garden a secret?”
Mary Frances turned back. “In a way,” she explained. “You see, Father gave Billy a part of our big garden for his camp and garden——”
“I know,” said Feather Flop, nodding. “I was down there one day—and I don’t care to go again.”
“I wanted to ask Father for a garden plot of my own,” went on Mary Frances, “but Billy said, ‘Why don’t you have a flower garden in front of your play house, and a vegetable garden back of it and surprise all the folks?’ You can’t imagine, Feather Flop, how delighted I was with that idea.”
“Fine idea!” agreed Feather Flop, scratching again. “Won’t it be splendid when the things grow!”
“And won’t it be a perfectly lovely surprise!” cried Mary Frances.
“I won’t tell anybody,” volunteered Feather Flop. “It will be grand to have a real secret with someone.”
“Oh, thank you, good old Feather Flop,” answered Mary Frances. “Are you certain you don’t want me to help spade up the garden?”