As I sat there before the fire, musing upon many things—with my back feeling tired and comfortable among the cushions—I heard a robin calling sleepily from my pine. It sent a glow through me. Verily, Spring is here.
So the season grew and filled me with joy. And as evening came, I sat before my fire, but I withdrew somewhat from its heat; and I had no interest in the book that I took up, but I must needs lay it down in my lap. For, first, I found myself reading but words and getting no sense from them, that I knew not whether I had read a passage or no. And I would struggle awake and read a line, or mayhap two, and make sense of it; and then I read the same line again, as like as not, and knew not where I was nor what my author would be at. Then I would let the book fall into my lap and care not for my author nor for aught else, and suck at my pipe—it was as like to be out as burning—and doze and dream. And Eve would glance at me and smile and go on with the making of doll’s clothes. For I had been out all day in my garden—with Judson giving me counsel, if I asked it—never, if I did not; and it was borne in upon me that he that withholdeth advice, if it be unasked, is a wise man—I had been all day in the garden, hoeing and digging and planting. When Judson did his planting was a mystery—probably about daylight; but he had got in the way of coming over the wall, and I would no sooner be at work than there would appear Judson at the wall, waving his hand in greeting. I think I shall make a gate there if he does not object. It is hard for an old man to climb walls.
And I wondered at the apparent defection of my friends; for they came seldom, so that Eve made some progress with her doll’s wardrobe. I wondered, I say, until I reflected upon the advice I had given them, myself. No doubt they were busy as well as I; and if they made gardens they went to bed early.
So it was come to be the first of May and all my planting was done except my corn. The birds had become noisy—they sang as though they would split their throats; and, as I planted, I heard the shrill whistle of the meadow-larks—but I could not stop to enjoy it. Only at evening I sat me on my seat under the great pine, with Eve beside me, and drank my fill of music. And the leaves were coming out upon the trees.
I marveled somewhat that Eve had had no word more from her father; but I must plant my corn. And my first planting of corn was done; and as I straightened up from it, sighing with weariness, I heard a low chuckling laugh. I turned quickly, and behold, there was Old Goodwin watching me; and beside him Eve. He was still laughing.
I hurried across my garden, the earth sticking to my boots; and made some apologies for my hands. The hands of a delver in the earth are not fit for contact with the Rich.
But what did Old Goodwin care for that? “It is clean dirt, Adam,” said he, “and honest. The hands that I have to take every day, they are—well—it turns me nearly sick at times, to take them—though they are white enough, and soft.” He looked out over my garden, that showed already unbroken rows of green, where the early peas had come through the earth. “So your planting is all done?” he asked. “I am sorry, for I had hoped to have a hand in it.”
“And so you may,” I answered, “if you will. There are yet some plantings of corn to be put in—but nothing for two weeks.” I hesitated, and blundered on. “And Mrs. Goodwin—she is well?”
“Quite well,” he said, and smiled as he spoke—and so did Eve. “Yes, she is quite well. She came down too. You may get a glimpse of her now and then, I think, about the grounds, for she is restless this spring, and out more than she has been used to be. No doubt,” he added, “it is the weather.”