“That isn’t all, Eleanor,” said Mary Frances, “Billy is teaching me how to garden. He took a course in gardening last year, and he explains to me everything his professors taught him.”
“Jiminy!” exclaimed Billy. “Everything! Well, not much! I’m trying to tell her just a little bit of what they tried to teach us fellows. By the way, doesn’t Bob garden?”
Eleanor began to giggle. The children looked at her in surprise. Finally she answered: “Such gardening! Believe me—no garden can raise a crop of weeds equal to his. I must tell you what I was laughing at. Early in the Spring Bob planted in a box some seed one of the boys had given him, and Father allowed him to put it in the sunniest window. He watered and tended it, and finally set the little plants out. The fellows told him that he’d be surprised at the wonderful plants he’d get; that he could have them served as ‘greens’ for our dinner.”
“What were they?” interrupted Mary Frances.
“Hush!” exclaimed Billy, who was much interested. “Eleanor will come to that soon.”
“Well, the plants certainly did grow! They grew large, broad leaves, quite curly, but no one seemed to know what they were. One day Bob asked the farmer who sold us potatoes to look at his garden, and I’ll never, never forget how that man laughed. He roared; he shook; he doubled up with laughter. He struck his knee with his hand, and tried to speak, but no words would come. Bob looked on at first with amazement, and then with anger, finally with disgust.
“‘If you wouldn’t mind telling the joke,’ he said, ‘we might share in the fun.’
“In a few moments the farmer spoke: ‘Well, sir,’ he said, ‘that’s the finest crop of curly dock weed I ever seen!’ and he began to laugh again.”
“My, I bet Bob was ‘sore’!” laughed Billy.