The next day father said, "Peter and Polly, will you work for me? I wish
to buy your leaves. I will give you a cent for three loads."
"Oh, goody, goody!" said Polly.
"Oh, goody, goody!" said Peter.
"You must put the leaves in a pile in the garden. I will show you
where."
"What will you do with them, father?" asked Polly.
"You will see to-night, if you are good workmen."
In the night the wind had blown the leaves about. So the children raked
them up once more.
Then they filled the big basket full. They packed in the leaves as hard
as they could.
"That is to give good measure," said Polly. "Father always gives good
measure at his store. So you and I must, too."
Every time they took a basketful to the garden, Polly made a mark on a
piece of paper.
At last the yard was raked clean. They had taken to the garden
twenty-nine loads. They had worked nearly all day.
At supper father said, "You are good workmen, chicks. Our yard looks
very clean. It is ready for winter.
"You piled the leaves carefully in the garden, too. Now, how much do I
owe you?"
"We took twenty-nine loads, father," said Polly. "I wish there had been
one more to make thirty."
"Why do you wish that, Polly?"
"Because three goes in thirty better than in twenty-nine."
"Well," said father, "we will call it thirty loads, Polly. I saw you
packing the leaves into the basket very hard.
"You are honest workmen to give me such good measure. Now, Polly, three
goes in thirty how many times?"
"Ten times, father. So you owe us ten cents. We shall each have five
cents."
"Very good, Polly. Here is your money. I have a surprise for you. Put on
your coats and come to the garden. Mother will come, too."
In the garden they found father beside the pile of leaves. He had thrown
many things upon it.
He said, "I came home early and cleaned up the garden. Now, what shall
we do with all this stuff?"
"Burn it, burn it!" shouted both children at once. "A bonfire, a
bonfire!"
"Very well," said father. "You may burn it. Here is a match for you,
Polly. And here is one for you, Peter. Light your fire."
Polly and Peter lighted the great heap. Soon the red flames were leaping
up. They made the garden bright. Farther away from the fire it was very
dark.
"Oh, see, see, mother!" cried Polly. "The flames are as pretty as the
red and yellow leaves. Have they taken the color from the leaves? How
hot they are!"
[Illustration: The children danced around the fire until it died down.
Then mother took them into the house. It was bedtime.]