But though they toiled and did not shirk,
Their plowing proved too much like work.
The plow was dull, the harness frail,
Their plowing seemed but doomed to fail.
Old Towser, who did not complain,
Showed that he felt the heavy strain,
And when they looked across the patch,
Their furrow only seemed a scratch!
Carl panted hard and scratched his head.
“I’ve had enough of that!” he said.
And Helen said, “Wait, boys, I’ll show
You how to plow with spade and hoe!”
IV
They dug away till almost noon,
With spade and hoe and great big spoon.
And Towser dug at a wee round hole,
Pretending that he smelt a mole.
The hours sped by as if on wings;
Swift goes the day that pleasure brings.
And deep they dug the mellow soil,
And raked it smooth with patient toil.
The noon bell rang; they cried, “Look here!
See how we’re digging, mother, dear!
We’re nearly through. It can’t be noon!
Keep dinner hot; we’ll be there soon!”