BY ISABEL GORDON CURTIS
One evening in May, Chuckie Wuckie’s papa finished setting out the plants in the front yard. Into one large bed he put a dozen fine cannas. They looked like fresh young shoots of corn. He told Chuckie Wuckie that when summer came they would grow tall, with great spreading leaves and beautiful red-and-yellow blossoms.
“Taller than me, papa?” asked the little girl, trying to imagine what they would look like.
“Much taller; as tall as I am.”
Chuckie Wuckie listened gravely while papa told her she must be very careful about the canna-bed. She must not throw her ball into it, or dig there, or set a foot in the black, smooth earth. She nodded her head solemnly, and made a faithful promise. Then she gathered up her tiny rake and hoe and spade, and carried them to the vine-covered shed to put beside her father’s tools.
Next morning, when papa went to look at the canna-bed, he discovered close beside one of the largest plants a snug, round hole. It looked like a little nest. He found Chuckie Wuckie digging with an iron spoon in the ground beside the fence.
“papa told her she must be very
careful about the canna-bed.”
“Dearie,” he said, “do you remember I told you, last night, that you must not dig in the canna-bed?”
“Yes,” said the little girl.