“Didn’t I see you working in the garden this morning when I went down the lake with Jim Preston?” Helen asked her mother.
“Probably. I’m planning a larger garden than ever. We can cut down on our grocery bills if we raise more things at home.”
“Don’t try to do too much,” Tom warned, “for we’re depending on you as the boss of this outfit now. I’ll help you with the garden every chance I get.”
“I know you will,” his mother replied, “but I thoroughly enjoy working outdoors. If you’ll take care of the potato patch, I’ll be able to do the rest and still find time to write a few social items for the paper.”
“Did you get any today?” Helen asked.
“Nearly half a dozen. The Methodist Ladies Aid is planning a spring festival, an afternoon of quilting and a chicken dinner in the evening with everyone invited.”
“And what a feed they put out,” added Tom. “I’ll have to see their officers and get an ad for the paper.”
Supper over and the dishes washed, dried and put away, Helen turned her attention to finishing the letter to her father. Tom also sat down to write a note and when they had finished Mrs. Blair put their letters in the envelope with her own, sealed it and gave it to Helen.
Margaret Stevens stuck her head in the door.
“Going up to school for the sophomore-junior debate?” she asked.