“I never knew they did climb! I thought they just naturally grew and branched out and bore beans,” explained Natalie, to the great amusement of Mrs. James and the girls.
“Well, den, I’d better hunt up some decent poles, too, in t’ woods, eh?” asked Sam.
“Would you have to cut down any good trees?”
“I’d choose any what looked sickly, er maybe some dead young trees. Don’t worry ’bout me choppin’ down any fine ones.”
“Say, Nat, I think it will be fun for us all to go with Sam in the morning before breakfast, and help cut the brush and bean poles,” suggested Janet.
“I’m willin’,” said Sam, smiling at the girls.
So the five girls went with Sam at sunrise the next morning, and by breakfast-time, Natalie had sufficient poles and brush at her garden beds to help all the peas and beans she could find room for that year.
The stock-grower and florist, and even the antiquarian, took such an interest in sticking the brush into the garden for the peas and helping the tendrils cling to their new support, that they left their own tasks undone.
Sam had driven Frances in the car to the store after breakfast, so he was not around when the girls planted the bean poles. He had not pointed out the particular bed where the limas were growing, as he thought, of course, that Natalie knew. But she had not followed Mrs. James’ advice given a few weeks before, when the seed was sown—to register each bed with the ticket of the vegetable that was planted there. Now she had to depend on her own memory to determine which of the different plants were beans.
The three other girls carried the poles where she directed, and carefully walked on the boards Natalie laid down for their feet, to keep the beds from being trodden while they dug holes and firmly placed a seven-foot pole in each hill of beans.