“Why, look at the fine things growing in those other beds!” exclaimed Janet, allowing her gaze to wander from the place where the almost imperceptible green was showing above the ground.
“Oh yes,—those are tomatoes, potatoes, radishes, cabbages, and other things. But these particular beds are my very own work, so I feel a great joy in them.”
“Aren’t the others yours, too?” asked Janet.
“Yes, but the plants were given me by Farmer Ames. He threw some out of his own gardens because they were too crowded for the best results. I planted them, but I did not raise them from seeds. My baby plants here are all my very own!”
Janet laughed. She understood just how Natalie felt. It was the result of all her own endeavor—these tiny seedlings.
“Well,” said she, after admiring the garden beds to Natalie’s utmost expectations, “I can’t see what there is left for me to do, if you have succeeded in your farming so soon.”
“I have been thinking of something for you to do, Janet. We’ve got all those barn buildings, but they are empty. If only you could keep chickens and a pig,—wouldn’t that be great?” said Natalie eagerly.
Janet laughed aloud. “Turn me into a stock farmer? I never thought of it, but now that you present the idea, it surely sounds fascinating. Can’t you see me currying the horses, and milking cows, or chasing a pig around the farm?”
“I am in earnest, Jan! You can easily keep chickens and sell eggs. As for a pig—why, Mr. Ames’s brother wants to sell a few of a litter he has at his farm. They are the cutest little things I ever saw. You’ll want to own one when you see them.”
Janet laughed again, as Natalie’s suggestion was so foreign to anything she had thought of. Not that it was unacceptable, however. The more she thought of the plan, the more it appealed to her as being worth while trying out.