“He’ll not be here in time to harm the perennial kind,” Billy said.
“No,” his father took up the thought, “August is an ideal time to plant the seeds of perennials.”
“We have a number of seeds ready for planting.” Billy turned to Mary Frances. “Where are they, sister?”
“In the play house,” replied Mary Frances. “Shall we get them?”
“Yes,” said her father, “I have plenty of time now, and I will help Billy, if he will act as ‘master of ceremonies.’”
“Father, I don’t know such a heap.” Billy’s face colored.
“Well, son,” said his father, “we’ll all appreciate your telling us all you can of what you learned. I know a little theory on the subject myself. I only wish I could have had training and experience in gardening when I was a boy.”
“It’s the most interesting subject in the world, I believe,“ Billy said earnestly.
“Here are the seeds,” cried Mary Frances, as she and Eleanor came with a number of packages.