The Anemones talked it over one to another down below in the earth, and thought it was grand. "Those grand Beech Leaves!" they said.
"Mind you remember this next summer when I burst into leaf," said the Beech.
"We will! we will!" whispered the Anemones.
But that sort of promise is easily made—and easily broken.
THE WEEDS
By Carl Ewald
It was a beautiful, fruitful season. Rain and sunshine came by turns just as it was best for the corn. As soon as ever the farmer began to think that things were rather dry, you might depend upon it that next day it would rain. And when he thought that he had had rain enough, the clouds broke at once, just as if they were under his command.
So the farmer was in a good humour, and he did not grumble as he usually does. He looked pleased and cheerful as he walked over the field with his two boys.
"It will be a splendid harvest this year," he said. "I shall have my barns full, and shall make a pretty penny. And then Jack and Will shall have some new trousers, and I'll let them come with me to market."
"If you don't cut me soon, farmer, I shall sprawl on the ground," said the Rye, and she bowed her heavy ear quite down towards the earth.