Bud did as he was told and Gramps caught a bean, which had broad leaves and a fragile stem, between his forefingers and held it gently.
"Have yourself a real good look."
Bud concentrated on the bean until a full minute later when Gramps said,
"Know what it looks like?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, everything in this field that ain't a bean is a weed. Every weed steals from the beans just like a bank robber steals from a bank."
"I don't understand you, sir," Bud said.
"Think, boy, and quit calling me sir," Gramps said impatiently. "What makes the beans grow big and strong, if not the goodness of the earth? And what else do the weeds live on? For every weed that steals the earth's richness, the beans suffer accordingly."
"That's wonderful!"
Gramps looked at him oddly, but Bud was too surprised and delighted to notice. He had never thought of nature in such terms and it was wonderful. Gramps got down on his hands and knees and, supporting himself on both knees and with his left hand, deftly used his right hand to pluck a small weed from among the growing beans. He held the weed up for Bud to look at.