“Never mind,” said Fritz consolingly. “Those sort of arrangements for the festival would be a little out of place here.”
“Would they?” cried Eric. “Ah, we’ll see about that!”
Chapter Twenty Nine.
Fritz goes Hunting.
After his last remark, Eric, silent for a little while, as if buried in deep thought, followed behind his brother to the garden patch, which was found in the most flourishing state.
The potatoes were all in full flower and the haulms of sturdy growth promised well for the crop of tubers beneath, some indeed being already half withered, as if fit for digging; while pods were thick on the two rows of peas planted, and the scarlet runners were a mass of bloom and brilliancy.
At such a glorious sight, Eric could remain silent no longer.
“This is capital,” he exclaimed in high delight; “why, we’ve got a regular harvest, brother!”