For a dapper little partridge was on the scene now, turning his head this way and that as he squinted at the mysterious seeds.
"Gourds!" he finally pronounced them. "Gourd seed. No good for eating. Even a sparrow wouldn't touch them."
Then the birds flew off and Mr. Rabbit skipped rope with himself all around the yard, for he wanted to restore his spirits; this curious incident having for a second clouded his buoyant nature.
This happened in the very early spring, before even a leaf was showing on Lady Trumpet-Vine, and before even a purple wood violet had shown herself in the borders of the deserted garden. Rains came; long ones that drenched the earth and gullied the roads. The eaves of the cabin dripped and dripped night and day, and it was not long before great puddles lay by the sunken door-step, and were soaking down into the roots of everything.
"What a pity there's nothing but weeds and those low-down gourd seeds to be benefited by all this!" sighed the Lady Trumpet. "I shall probably flower generously this year. But what's the use?"
Then she would grow very sad as the rain increased and out of the dark skies came the heavy south winds.
But when the sky cleared, the gourd seeds had sunk out of sight. That was good luck for them. Deeper down they went and at last their first little roots were feeling the rich soil that no plant had enjoyed in many a year. Then two bright green leaves, laden with halves of the old seed coverings, came up.
The glistening earth was trying to dry itself in the sunshine, and the jolly Woodpecker was looking out of his window in the trunk of the old cherry-tree.
"Well, I'm a crow!" he exclaimed, "or there are those gourd seeds up and out of bed so soon!"
He was so delighted with this that he told his wife; and soon all the other people around the poor neglected place were flying and running to take a look.