"You will find that useful," he commented with the suggestion of a twinkle in his eye.
"Very," she agreed—"on examination day."
After half an hour, onion-planting grew to be wearying work; but Patty was bound to be game, and stick to her job as long as he did. Finally, however, the last onion was in, and the gardener rose and viewed the neat rows with some satisfaction.
"That will do for to-day," he declared; "we've earned a rest."
They sat down, Patty on the wheelbarrow, the man on an upturned tub.
"How do you like working for Mr. Weatherby?" she inquired. "Is he as bad as the papers make out?"
The gardener chuckled slightly as he lighted his pipe.
"Well," he said judiciously, "he's always been very decent to me, but I don't know as his enemies have any cause to love him."
"I think he's horrid!" said Patty.
"Why?" asked the man with a slight air of challenge. He was quite willing to run his master down himself, but he would not permit an outsider to do it.