THE CHILDREN’S MONEY-MAKING PLANS
THE children were in the garden, pulling weeds and “cultivating.”
The little plants had come up quite a way through the soil.
With her hoe Mary Frances was drawing little mounds of earth quite high
around the stems of the plants.
“Now, Mary Frances,” exclaimed Billy, “you’re doing just wrong! That is
one of the garden ‘don’ts.’ Don’t pile the earth high over the stems.”
“Why, if you please, Mr. Billy?” asked Mary Frances.
“Because—” started Billy; then: “Oh, you must know, Mary Frances.”
“I suppose because the little rootlets need rain, and little hills
would make the water run off,” guessed Mary Frances, “and I’ll do it
right after this; but, really, Billy, I’m afraid I’ll never learn all
my lessons as well as you know yours. It is a marvel to me how much
you know. How you must have studied!”
“Humm!” said Billy, hoeing away. “I did study; but, somehow, I like
gardening so much, it didn’t seem hard work.”
“You must have worked hard, though, or you wouldn’t have won that
garden prize of five dollars at school. Billy, you must feel rich! What
are you going to buy with it?”
“I don’t think I’ll buy anything with what I have left; it seems fine
to me to just keep it in my bank account.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed Mary Frances, “I wish I could make some money—not
just save some of what is given to me.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Billy.
“Why don’t I what?” Mary Frances looked up from her work.
“Make some money,” said Billy.
“How could I?” asked Mary Frances in bewilderment.
“Why, sell some of the vegetables you raise in the garden.”
“Oh, Billy! Billy!” cried Mary Frances. “Do you suppose for a minute I
could?”
“Course you could,” answered Billy, “if I helped you, especially. I
would like some spending money myself. Suppose we go into partnership?”
“Oh, let’s!” cried Mary Frances. “How much better than trying to do
such a thing alone! And I wouldn’t want you to help me unless we
divided the profits.”
“And I wouldn’t want to help you on any other basis,” agreed Billy.
“But,” exclaimed Mary Frances suddenly, “what about your own garden?
You’ll not need any partnership with me. You yourself will raise all
you can sell.”
“Have you noticed what I have growing there, Mary Frances?”
“Billy,” said the little girl shamefacedly, “I haven’t. I haven’t
noticed at all. How selfish I am!”
“Well,” laughed Billy, “I don’t mind at all, so you needn’t feel bad,
but I’ll tell you. Chiefly rhubarb and asparagus; and they are both
plants which need two years, or three, before they may be disturbed,
so you see why I’m so generous with my offer.”
“I understand now, Billy,” smiled Mary Frances. “My, won’t you be rich
when the rhubarb and asparagus are ready to sell!”
“I do expect to make some money,” said Billy. “Father said he would pay
me something for what is used by the family. It cost quite a sum to
buy the little plants I set out—all I spent of the prize money was for
them.”
“Well, I certainly am glad you will help me, Billy,” said Mary Frances,
falling to work.
“All right; then it is settled,” Billy said. “It won’t be long before
that lettuce and those radishes will be some size.”
“But the parsley bed has shown only the tiniest little green leaves
here and there! I wonder if it’s never going to come up!” exclaimed
Mary Frances.
“It often takes six weeks for parsley to germinate,” explained Billy.
“Germinate?” inquired Mary Frances.
“Yes,” answered Billy, “for the seeds to grow—start up, you know—wake
up from their sleep.”
“Oh,” said Mary Frances, “I understand.” Then suddenly, “Oh, Billy,
I can scarcely wait until we can begin to sell things! I believe, I
really believe I can cut some flowers to sell!”
“Certainly you can if they are beautiful enough!” said Billy. “Well,
I must make a start or else I’ll never get over to the camp, and the
fellows are down on me now for being away so much. So long—get all that
hoeing done.”
“Good-bye, Billy; it will all be done when you reach home,” called Mary
Frances.