“There it is, little man,” said Zeek Trimmer, who was passing on his way back to the barn. The hired man pointed to a side hill not far away. It was green with growing clover which was washed clean by the recent rain.
“I don’t see any bank,” Freddie stated. “There’s a bank at home in Lakeport where Daddy puts his money. But I don’t see any place where they put clover.”
“Ho! Ho!” laughed Bert. “I guess he thought the clover bank was a building like the money bank at home.”
“Well, isn’t it?” Freddie inquired.
“No, dear,” explained Nan. “That’s just a bank, or hill, of dirt, and the clover leaves and blossoms grow on it. I suppose it’s such a big bank, or side-hill field, of clover, that Mr. Watson named his farm Cloverbank. Isn’t that it?” she asked the hired man.
“That’s it,” was Zeek’s reply. “We’ve got the best field of side-hill clover on any farm for miles around. And we’ve got the best peach orchards, too,” he added proudly.
“Oh, do you grow peaches?” cried Bert.
“I should say we do. They’re almost ripe, too, and we’ll begin picking in a few days.”
“Does Mrs. Watson can the peaches?” Nan asked, for she had sometimes helped her mother at preserving time by washing the glass cans.
“There’s more peaches at Cloverbank than Mrs. Watson could ever can,” said Zeek. “Come and I’ll show you.”