"I think that is interesting," said Margery.
"I always, supposed the plants were different from the minute they began to grow."
"Indeed, no," said father. "Even some of the trees look like this when they first come through; you would not think a birch tree could look like a vegetable or a flower, would you? But it does, at first; it looks so much like these things that in the great nurseries, where trees are raised for forests and parks, the workmen have to be very carefully trained, or else they would pull up the trees when they are weeding. They have to be taught the difference between a birch tree and a weed."
"How funny!" said Margery, dimpling.
"Yes, it sounds funny," said father; "but, you see, the birch tree is dicotyledonous, and so are many weeds, and the dicotyledons look so much alike at first."
"I am glad to know that, father," said Margery, soberly. "I believe I shall learn a good deal from living in the country; don't you think so?"
Margery's father took her in his arms. "I hope so, dear," he said; "the country is a good place for little girls."
And that was all that happened, that day.