“‘Here,’ said the old man, ‘is a grand place for your apple tree to grow.’ And together they bored a hole in the rich earth.
“Jack knelt down and from his chubby hands dropped the beautiful brown seeds. Then he kissed his tiny palm and waved it over the hole as he cried:
“‘Good night, little seeds. Send me a little tree by and by when you wake up. I’ll be waiting for it and will take good care of it.’
“They covered the seeds with the dark rich loam, then ate their lunch. Presently Jack was thirsty, and the old man fashioned a cup from a broad leaf and filled it at a near-by spring. Jack drank, and the little seeds also drank.
“Then the old man built a picket fence about the spot so no harm could come to it. As this was finished the bell on the corn barn told them dinner was ready.
“‘Mudder,’ cried Jack, bursting in to the house, ‘we planted the seeds and the tree will be my own. Isn’t that fine?’
“‘Fine, indeed! I never heard of a better birthday present. It will last for years and years, and think of the fruit it will bear!’
“As the child ate he dreamed of the tree as it would be some day; full of rosy apples, and he was very proud of that magic spot beside the brook.
“Each day he ran out to look at it, and one morning he found the ground above the seeds humped up just a little. Another day the earth was cracked open, and soon after that to his great joy, he found a dear little sprig peeping up at him as though crying, ‘Here I am! How do you do?’