"Mercy, but this yard is big!" sighed weary Peace, as she began digging along the third and last side. "Have you got enough left to stick in here, Allee?"
"This is all," answered the blue-eyed toiler, displaying a handful of flat, black seed in her apron.
"Those don't look like peas," cried Cherry, pausing to examine the queer-looking things. "All I ever saw were round."
"Garden peas are round," answered Peace, with a knowing air, "but these are sweet peas, and they are flat."
"Did you ever see any before?" demanded Cherry suspiciously, nettled by her sister's manner.
"No—o, but doesn't the sack they were in say 'sweet peas?'"
It certainly did, there was no disputing that fact, so Cherry discreetly remained silent, and began her vigorous shoveling once more.
When the supper hour was announced the shallow, uneven trench was completed, the seeds all covered, and three dirty gardeners perched in a row on the fence, planning out the list of customers who would buy the sweet blossoms when the vines had matured.
"There's the horn for supper," said Cherry.
"And I know Mrs. Lacy will be glad to get them sometimes, 'cause she hasn't any flowers at all," continued Peace, ignoring the interruption. "That makes ten people."