“There now! That is done and they are on the road to beautifying our grounds,” sighed Mrs. James, standing up and stretching her arm muscles.
“After all I’ve said, you were the first one to plant, anyway,” complained Natalie.
“Not in the vegetable garden! And flowers are not much account when one has to eat and live,” laughed Mrs. James.
A voice calling from the kitchen door, now diverted attention from the roots and bulbs. “I got dem muffins on de table an’ nice cereal ready to dish up,” announced Rachel.
“And we’re ready for it, too!” declared Natalie.
During the morning meal, Mrs. James and her protégée talked of nothing but gardening, and the prospects of an early crop. To anyone experienced in farming, their confidence in harvesting vegetables within a fortnight would have been highly amusing. But no one was present to reflect as much as a smile on their ardor, so the planning went on.
It was not quite seven when Farmer Ames drove in at the side gate and passed the house. Natalie ran out to greet him and to make sure he had brought the plough in the farm wagon.
“Good-morning, Mr. Ames. How long will it be before you start the ploughing?” called Natalie, as the horse was stopped opposite the side door.
“Good-mornin’, miss. Is Mis’ James to home this mornin’?” asked the be-whiskered farmer, nodding an acknowledgment of Natalie’s greeting.
“Here I am, Mr. Ames. Both of us are ready to help in the gardening in whatever way you suggest,” said Mrs. James, appearing on the porch.