Natalie remembered the paragraph in “Scouting for Girls” and asked: “Shall I bring the spade, too?”
Just then, Mr. Ames stubbed his toe against a large stone that had been turned out of its bed. He grumbled forth: “Better git a pickaxe and crowbar.”
“My book didn’t mention crowbars and pickaxes, Mr. Ames, so I don’t know what they are,” ventured Natalie modestly.
“Every farmer has to have a pick and crow on hand in case he wants to dig fence-post holes, er move a rock—like the one I just hit.”
“Oh! But our fences are all made.”
“So are the rocks! But they ain’t moved. Better go over the ploughed dirt and find ’em, then git them outen the garden.”
Natalie began to hunt for stones, and as she found any, to carry them over to the fence where she threw them over in the adjoining field. Thiswas not very exciting pastime, and her back began to ache horribly.
Mrs. James, who had lingered behind, now joined Natalie and exclaimed in surprise, “Why, I thought you said the old tenant was so particular with his garden? He should have removed all these stones, then.”
“This section was used fer pertaters an’ corn every other year, an’ some stones is good to drain the sile fer them sort of greens. But fer small truck like you’se plan to plant here, the stones has to get out.”
Mrs. James assisted Natalie in throwing out stones which turned up under the plough-blade, and when that section of the garden was finished, Mr. Ames mopped his warm brow and looked back over his work with satisfaction.
“Ef you’se want to plant corn over in that unused spot alongside the field, it will be a fine place to use. It is not been used fer years fer truck.”
“It looks awfully weedy. Maybe things won’t grow there,” ventured Natalie.
“Hoh, them’s only top-weeds what can be yanked out. The sile itself is good as any hereabouts.”
“Well, then, Mr. Ames,” said Mrs. James, “you’d better plough that section, too, for the corn or potatoes.”
So the rough part of the ground by the fence-line was ploughed up, but the quantity of stones found in the soil was appalling to Natalie. Mr. Ames chuckled at her expression.
“Don’t worry about seein’ so many, ’cuz you only has to pick out one stone at a time, you know. Ef you does this one at a time, widdout thinkin’ of how many there seem to be afore your eyes, you soon git them all out an’ away.”
“I see Mr. Ames is a good moralizer,” smiled Mrs. James.
He nodded his head, and then suggested that he visit the barnyard to see if any old compost was left about by the former tenant. If so, it would be a good time to dig it under in the ploughed soil.
“Oh, I want to go with Mr. Ames, Jimmy, tosee just what compost he considers good,” exclaimed Natalie, dancing away.
Mrs. James watched her go and smiled. The tonic of being in the country and working on the farm was beginning to tell already. Before she resumed her task of picking up stones, however, the clarion voice of Rachel came from the kitchen porch.
“Hey, Mis’ James! I’se got lunch all ready to eat!”
As the lady was well-nigh starved because of the early breakfast and the work in the earth, she sighed in relief. Now she would have a spell in which to rest and gain courage to go on with the stoning. This showed that it was not interesting to Mrs. James, but she was determined to carry it through.
Natalie ran indoors soon after Mrs. James and went to the dining-room where the luncheon was served. She was so eager to tell what Farmer Ames told her that she hardly saw that Rachel had prepared her favorite dessert—berry tarts.
“Jimmy, Mr. Ames knows more about farming and soilthan books! He says a mixed compost from the stables and barnyard makes the best of all fertilizers.”
“His logic sounds plausible, Natty, but we haven’t any such compost to use, and perhaps never will have if we wish to use it from our own barns,” said Mrs. James regretfully.
“But Mr. Ames said he could sell us some of that grade compost, if we needed any. He says he does not believe our soil needs fertilizing this year, as it is so rich already.”
“That is splendid news, as it will save us much time in seeding, too,” returned Mrs. James.
“I wanted to show him that I knew something about composts, so I told him about what I read in the book for Scouts last night:—that one could use a commercial fertilizer if one had no barnyard manure available. He looked at me amazed, and I explained that many farmers used four-parts bone-dust to one part muriate of potash and mixed it well. This would fertilize a square rod of land. I felt awfully proud of myself as I spoke, but he soon made me feel humbleagain, by saying, ‘Do you spread it out on top of the ground after the seed is in, Miss Natalie, or do you put it under the sile to het up the roots?’”
Mrs. James laughed and asked, “What could you say?”
“That’s just it—I didn’t know, Jimmy; so I made a guess at it. I replied: ‘Why, I mix it very carefully all through the soil’—and Jimmy! I struck it right first time!” laughed she.
Mr. Ames had finished his dinner (so he called it) long before Natalie and her chaperone, and when they started to leave the house they found that he was hard at work removing the rest of the stones from the ploughed ground.
“Oh, I’m so glad of that, Jimmy!” cried Natalie, as she watched the farmer at work.
“Well, to tell the truth, Natalie, I’m not sorry to find that job taken from us,” laughed Mrs. James. “I found it most tiresome and with no encouragement from the stones.”
“Let’s do something else, Jimmy, and let Mr. Ames finish the stone-work,” suggested Natalie,quickly. Just then Rachel came out on the back steps of the kitchen porch.
“Mis’ James, Farmeh Ames say foh you-all to drive ole Bob back to his house en’ fetch a load of compos’ what he says is back of his barns. His man knows about it. Den you kin brung along dem leetle plants what is weeded out of his garden and keep ’em down cellar fer to-night.”
Natalie felt elated at this novel suggestion of work, thereby freeing them both from the irksome task of stoning the garden. And Mrs. James laughed as she pictured herself driving the farm-wagon on the county road where an endless stream of automobiles constantly passed.
But she was courageous, and soon the two were gayly chattering, as Bob stumbled and stamped along the macadam road. Above the clatter of loose wheels and rattling boards in the floor of the old wagon, the merry laughter of Natalie could be heard by the autoists, as they passed the “turn-out” from Green Hill Farm.
Having reached the Ames’s farm and found the handy-man who would load up the barnyardcompost in the wagon for them, Natalie asked him many questions that had been interesting her.
Natalie made good use of her eyes while Farmer Ames’s man gave her the vegetable slips, and when she got back home the first question she asked Mr. Ames was: “Why can’t I buy a few of your asparagus slips? I love asparagus and you have a fine bed of it.”
“I’d give yer some slips, and welcome, but it don’t grow that way,” replied he. “First you’ve got to hev jest the right quality of sand and loam mixed in kerrect proportions, and then yer seed it down. The fust season of asparagrass it ain’t no good fer cuttin’; the secunt year it turns out a few baby stalks, but the third year it comes along with a fine crop—ef you’ve taken good care of it through the winter cold, and shaded the young plants from summer’s sun-heat the fust two years.”
“Oh, I never dreamed there was so much trouble to just raising asparagus!” exclaimed Natalie. “How long does it take in the spring, Mr. Ames, before the plant produces the ripe vegetable?”
Mr. Ames turned and stared at Natalie to see if she was joking, but finding she was really in earnest, he laughingly replied: “Asparagrass doesn’t ripen like termaters er beans,—when the young stalk shoots up from the sile, yer cut it off. It is the tip that is best, fer that holds the heart of the plant. Ef you let it keep on growin’ it will shoot up into a high plant with the seed in its cup. But we cut it before it grows up.”
“Oh dear! Then I can’t raise it for three years, can I?” said she complainingly.
“It don’t look that way,” remarked the farmer.
Mrs. James and Natalie had returned with the farm-wagon loaded with compost late in the afternoon, and Farmer Ames stopped work soon after their return to Green Hill Farm.
“I’ve gotta look after my own stock andtruck now, but I’ll be back to-morrer mornin’ an’ help spread out the fertilizer so’s the ground will be ready in another day er two.”
“I don’t know what we would have done without you, Mr. Ames,” said Natalie, standing on the carriage step near the side drive.
“Well, es long es you diden have to do without me, what’s the use tryin’ to figger out what you would have done,” laughed he, as he gathered up the reins.
“That’s splendid logic, Mr. Ames,” laughed Mrs. James, pleased at his reply.
“I allus says we waste more time crossin’ bridges what never was excep’ in our imagination, than it would take to go miles round-about ’em.”
After this last original proverb, he started the horse along his way.
Directly after the evening meal, Mrs. James took her Scout manual and sat down on the piazza to study the chapter on gardening. Natalie saw what she was doing and ran in to get her book, also.
“Jimmy, it doesn’t say one ought to have a trowel and pick for garden work. Mr. Ames said we should always have them on hand in case of need. I can see how much easier it would have been to clear the ground of the stones had we had the pick instead of having had to use the digging-fork,” said Natalie.
“I think so, too. And the hand-trowel will be very useful when we transplant the small plants. I don’t see how one can get along well without it, or without a short hand-rake. But I wanted to read what it says about making the garden beds. That is why I began reading it to-night.”
“It says the bed should be three feet wide by twelve long,” read Natalie.
“Yes, I see; but I have found three feet of soil to be uncomfortably wide to reach over when you wish to weed or dig about the plants. If the vegetables are bush-beans it is almost impossible to work in the middle of the bed without rubbing against the outside plants and breaking off branches. I should certainly plan to have mygardens but two feet wide, with a foot-path fifteen inches wide between every bed.
“Of course, where land is limited and costly, one cannot afford a wide foot-path; but we can, and it will make the weeding much easier. A ten or twelve-inch foot-path is almost too narrow to move about on without damaging the plants along its edge.”
“Is our garden composed of clay, Jimmy, like it says in the next paragraph?” asked Natalie anxiously.
“Oh, no! Let me read what it says: ‘The bed should be dug out to a depth of two feet, and if the soil is clay, six inches deeper than two feet. In the latter case you will have to fill in the bottom with broken stones, or cinders, or gravel, for good drainage. The best soil is a mixture of one-half sandy loam, one-fourth leaf-mould, or muck that has been exposed all winter (to rot for this purpose), and then mix this thoroughly before filling it in the beds. Sprinkle wood-ashes over the beds next, and rake them well in the ground before you plant anything. This is to sweetenthe soil. Lime may be used for the same purpose; but in either case, get advice as to the amount needed for the soil in question.’
“That is plain enough. The soil on different farms differs as much as the people do, so that a careful analysis is needed to produce good crops,” explained Mrs. James.
“I suppose there are soils that need next to no potash, and other soil that needs no ashes, or other chemical treatments,” ventured Natalie.
“Exactly! So you see, if one added an extra chemical where enough of such was already in evidence, it would injure the tender plant as it sprouted,” added Mrs. James.
“Jimmy, Mr. Ames told me to-day that good old leaf-mould was the finest ofallcomposts. But where can we get any, now?” asked Natalie.
“I have no doubt we can find enough down on the river banks to cover your garden beds this year. Then in the fall we can rake up the leaves and allow them to rot through the winter for next season,” said Mrs. James.
“Oh, I forgot all about the woodland downby the stream! I’ll run down there in the morning to see if I can find any rotted leaves,” said Natalie eagerly.
“Natalie, you should also hunt up some long boards in the barn, or cellar, to use when we plant the seeds,” advised Mrs. James.
“Boards—what for?”
“Well, if we have the soil all smooth and fine for planting, our feet will trample down the ground wherever we walk. We must do our seeding by leaning over the bed and work down from each side of the two-foot wide space. By placing a board on the foot-path between the beds, we can stand on it and keep the soil from becoming packed.”
“I should think it would do the path good to be packed down good and hard.”
“So it will, but the board will do that in an even manner. Our shoes will cut in and cause the packing to be done in an uneven way,” explained Mrs. James.
“I suppose we will have to fill some baskets with any leaf-mould we may find in the woodland. Buthow can we carry them up to the gardens?” Natalie now said.
“Maybe Mr. Ames can suggest a way to do that better than our carrying the heavy loads.”
“Well, I’d willingly carry it, just to have the benefit of it on my garden. The vegetables will grow like anything,—Mr. Ames says they will,” responded Natalie.
After a few moments of silence, she turned again to Mrs. James and asked: “Why did you just say that we might rake up the leaves in the fall and put them aside for the winter? Don’t you know we won’t be here when the leaves fall?”
“I’m not so sure of that, Natalie,” returned Mrs. James. “I have been thinking matters out very carefully, and from present indications there will be a great scarcity of apartments, or rooms, to be had in New York this year. The rents will be outrageous for us to pay, and as long as we are so comfortably housed here, why try to earn the necessary income for high rents?The distance to the station is not long, and you can easily commute to the city to attend school in September. When winter weather really sets in, we can take a trunk and board in New York until spring. That will overcome all financial worries about leases and rents.”
“Oh, I never thought of that! But the girls wouldn’t stay with me after September, I’m afraid,” exclaimed Natalie.
“We won’t have to plan or worry about that now,” laughed Mrs. James. “Maybe the girls will be so much in love with farm-life, they will beg their parents to permit them to remain longer than September! In that case, you will have no loneliness, I’m sure.”
“No, that’s so; and I suppose it is really up to me to make them so happy here that they willwantto remain,” admitted Natalie.
“I haven’t suggested this possibility to Mr. Marvin, as yet, but I know he will be tremendously relieved to hear of it, as he is wondering what can be done in the fall, with our income so limited.”
“Well, let’s talk about it the first time he comes out to see us. I am perfectly contented to remain here, if it is best for all.”
After this digression, both amateur farmers turned their attention to the scouting manual again.
“It states here, Jimmy, that one must be careful not to allow the garden soil to run over boundaries, and spread out upon the foot-paths. This can be avoided by using a low length of fence made of a thin board about six inches high, or the beds can be walled in with field-stone which looks very artistic as well as useful. The plan of walling in the beds also helps to retain the moisture in the ground where the roots can drink it as needed.”
“I’ll make a note of that, Natalie, as it sounds practical,” said Mrs. James, writing down the idea on a paper.
“And it also suggests that the garden beds be built up from the pathway for about two or three inches, making a tiny terrace of each bed and sinking the foot-path below the bed. By sodoing, any excessive moisture is drained out from the soil, so the roots are not kept too wet,” read Natalie.
“Yes, I knew that before, and we certainly will follow that suggestion when we spread out our beds.”
“Well, when we get as far as that in the work, our seeds ought to arrive,” remarked Natalie, yawning behind her hand.
Mrs. James smiled at the yawn for it was not yet eight o’clock, and the previous evening Natalie had grumbled about retiring as early as nine. But she said nothing about the yawn.
“Don’t hold up the delivery of the seeds on the ground that we must finish all the garden beds first,” laughed the lady.
“Mercy no! I am as anxious to see the seeds as I am to plant the tiny green shoots that Mr. Ames promised to give us.” Then after another mighty yawn that almost dislocated her jaw, Natalie added: “Jimmy, I want to get up very early in the morning to plant those slips wegot to-day. Mr. Ames says I must give them several hours in the ground before the sun is up, so they won’t wilt and die. So I think I will go up to bed—if you don’t mind?”
“By all means, Natalie. And I will follow, shortly. I just want to enter a few notes on our work in this diary, then I will retire, also; I think we can work better at dawn if we get our full quota of sleep during the night.”
The next day was given to breaking up the clods of earth and raking out the smaller stones to clear the garden beds. The compost was well-mixed with the soil by Farmer Ames, while Mrs. James and Natalie went down to the woodland by the river and found certain places where leaf-mould was plentiful. It was as fine as gunpowder, and of an exceptionally rich quality. That morning, Mr. Ames had arrived, driving Bob and an old buckboard. When it was proposed that someone go for the leaf-mould, Natalie instantly suggested that they drive Bob to the woodland so the baskets could be placed on the buckboard and carried to the garden thatway. This would save time and great exertion on the part of someone to carry them from the river to the beds.
Now the containers were lifted up and placed securely on the back and front platforms of the buckboard and the two hard-working companions gladly sat down on the seat and started Bob up the grass-grown road.
Soon they were helping to spread out the leaf-mould on the soil, and while they worked, Natalie asked: “Mr. Ames, how comes it that no one ever went to the river bank to get this rich mould?”
“Well, that woodland and the river banks belongs to this farm, so no one else would trespass on it. And the man who ran this farm had idees of his own about fertilizer. He placed no faith in Nature’s work, but kep’ on buyin’ and experimentin’ with stuff what came from Noo York.”
Mr. Ames stood up while delivering this explanation, then he added, winking wisely at Natalie:
“But he diden spile yer farm, fer all his foolin’ wid Noo York stuff instead of goin’ to Nature fer her goods.”
His hearers laughed and Mrs. James remarked: “No, I should say not. And you said yourself that he managed to get the best results of any farmer round here.”
When the leaf-mould was well spread over three garden beds, Mr. Ames made a suggestion.
“Now you two women-folk kin use my tape-line to measure off three beds as wide as yuh want ’em, whiles I goes down to the woods with Bob and brings up some more mould fer the other beds. When the marking is done, you kin begin to plant them termater plants I brought this mornin’. I left ’em in the cellar whar it was cool and damp.”
This was encouraging, for it began to sound as if the garden was really a fact. Before the seeds or slips were in the ground, something might happen to change the plan, thought Natalie. So Mrs. James and she eagerly measured out the first few beds, and about the time Mr. Ames wasready to drive up his installment of leaf-mould, they were ready to get the cabbage and tomato plants.
Before sundown that day, three beds were on the way to producing their vegetables. One bed was planted with tomatoes and one with cabbages, the third was used for beets and radishes—plants which had been kept in the cellar from the evening before.
“To-morrer we will git the other beds done and you’se kin seed ’em down wid all you’se wants to raise,” said Mr. Ames, as he mounted the old buckboard and prepared to drive home.
“Oh, Mr. Ames!” called Natalie anxiously. “Do you have anyone who drives to the Corners to-night, or in the morning, so they might get our seeds from the mail?”
“I’m goin’ in m’se’f t’-night. Yeh see, Si Tompkins has sort of a country-club meetin’ at his store every week on this night, an’ I hain’t never missed one!” bragged Farmer Ames.
“What do you do at the meetings?” asked Natalie wonderingly.
“Oh, mos’ everything. Lately it has be’n all about the damp cold season, an’ how we are goin’ to get our truck goin’ ef this weather keeps up. Some of th’ farmers exchange advice on matters. Then when the weather ain’t bad, we talks about polerticks. That old League of Nations kept us fuming fer th’ longest time! But now that it’s dead, we let it bury itself.”
Both Natalie and Mrs. James laughed appreciatively at his explanation, and the former added: “Well, if you will only bring our seeds, if they have arrived, I won’t dispute your rights to argue on politics.”
“That I will, and gladly,” returned the farmer as he drove away.
Natalie turned to Mrs. James and asked whimsically: “Did Mr. Ames mean he would gladly argue politics with us, or gladly bring the seeds back?”
“He meant both, I’m sure,” laughed Mrs. James.
But he did not appear again that evening, and Natalie wondered why not. Mrs. James laughingly replied:“Because he, most likely, is the speaker for the night’s meeting at the store.”
Although this was said jokingly, it was exactly what occurred and detained the farmer from driving home until after ten. As the farm-house was dark at that time, he decided to take the package of seeds home and deliver them in the morning when he put in his appearance for work.
The farmerettes were ready for him, when he finally drove in at the side gate. Natalie watched eagerly as he got out of the vehicle—she wondered if he had the seeds.
“I got th’ seeds, ladies, but I be’n thinkin’ about them pertater seeds what my brother told me about las’ night when we druv home from Tompkins’ Corners. Yuh hain’t got no pertaters figgered on yet, have yeh?”
“Laws no! I forgot all about potatoes,” exclaimed Natalie, using Rachel’s favorite exclamation when amazed.
“Well—no harm done,” returned Mr. Ames.“My brother has a reputation fer growin’ th’ best pertater seed in the state, an’ he says he kin spare yuh about a peck, ef yuh let him know at once. I allus gits mine of him, an’ my crops never fail.”
“A peck! Why, Mr. Ames—a peck of seed will plant that whole field!” cried Natalie, nodding to the big buckwheat field that adjoined her farm.
It was the farmer’s turn to look amazed now. He glanced from the speaker to Mrs. James and back again. Mrs. James laughed and said: “Did you think potato seed looked like our other seeds?”
“Of course,—doesn’t it?”
Then Farmer Ames threw back his head and gave vent to a loud guffaw. His Adam’s apple jumped up and down in his throat as he gasped for breath, and his under lip came near being drawn out of sight in the suction caused by his gasp.
“Wall, ef that don’t beat the Irish!” exclaimed he, when he could speak again. “Mebbewe’ll have a few other surprises to give Miss Natalie afore she is done farmin’.”
“I haven’t a doubt of it!” retorted she. “But just now you might explain about potato seed.”
“How much seed would you have ordered for a patch of ground about six beds’ size?” asked Mr. Ames instead of answering her request.
“About a pint,—maybe half a pint would be enough.”
Rachel had heard the farmer’s loud laughter and having learned the cause of it, she decided to spare her little mistress any further ridicule. So she got an old potato from the basket and, having washed it carefully, went to the door.
“Oh, Natty! Ah say, Mis’ Natty! Come right heah, Honey.”
Natalie turned and smilingly nodded at Rachel; then excused herself to Mr. Ames and ran up the steps of the kitchen porch.
“See heah, Chile! Don’ you go an’ show your ig’nance about farmin’ in front of dat country-man. Now watch me, Honey, an’ den go backan’ play yoh knew it all dis time! Let Mis’r Ames think yuh was funnin’ him.”
Rachel then took the large potato and showed it to Natalie. “See dem leetle dimples in diffrunt places on its skin? Well,—dem is called ‘eyes,’ and when a pertater gits ole, dem eyes begins to sprout. Every sprout will make a pertater vine, so farmers call dem eyes ‘pertater seeds’—see?”
“Really! Why, Rachel, how interesting!” cried Natalie, taking the potato and studying the eyes.
“Yep! An’ what’s more, you’se kin cut a pertater what has f’om two to six eyes a-growin’, into pieces so one big pertater will plant as many vines as pieces you cut outen him.”
“This potato has five big eyes, Rachel,” said Natalie, counting carefully.
“An’ bein’ a great big pertater, I kin cut five pieces—watch me.”
Rachel then deftly cut the five sections and handed them to Natalie. “But it isn’t bestes to cut so many slices, cuz the sap leaks out and thatloses a lot of de power to grow a sturdy plant, Natty. When pertaters is plentiful, we gen’ally cuts ’em in half—an’ the skin pertecks the sap from runnin’ away. Ef we wants to use all dese five pieces, we has to put ’em in the hot sunshine fer an hour er two, to dry up de cut skin. Dat keeps in de juice when de slice is in de ground. And de juice is what feeds de sprout until it grows above de ground.”
“Rachel, you are a brick! Now I can go back to Mr. Ames and show off all I know!” laughed Natalie joyously, as she ran from the kitchen and joined Mrs. James and the farmer again.
But there was no opportunity for her to display her knowledge, as Mrs. James had an invitation ready for her. “Mr. Ames says he would like to have us drive with him to his brother’s farm and see a model little place. We can bring back the potato seed and, at the same time, get lots of good advice and ideas about running our farm this summer.”
In a few minutes more the three were crowded in upon the seat of the buckboard and Rachelstood in the kitchen doorway watching them drive off. Their gay laughter echoed back to her as she returned to the sink to finish the dishes, and she smiled as she murmured to herself: “Ef dis summer out on a farm don’ make dat chile oveh inter a new bein’, den my name ain’t ‘Rachel!’”
The drive from Green Hill Farm to Mr. Ames’s brother’s farm was enlivened for Mrs. James and Natalie by the driver’s gossip about the neighboring farmers whose places they passed. One farmer made a speciality of raising poultry, another tried to raise flowers, but his greenhouses were not arranged well, and his plants generally froze in cold weather. Still another farmer planned to raise nothing but market-truck, but he kept postponing the attempt and thus never amounted to anything.
All these various plans gave Natalie food for thought, and she had many schemes outlined in her head by the time Mr. Ames drove in at his brother’s farm-gate.
The house and front gardens were as neat as wax, and one could see from the road that thefarm itself was well cared for. Mr. Ames spoke the truth when he bragged of it as being a model farm.
Mrs. Ames came to the side door at the sound of wheels crunching the gravel, and smiled a welcome at her brother-in-law.
“I brung the leddies I tol’ you about,” explained Mr. Ames, as he jumped out and turned to help Mrs. James and Natalie.
After introductions were over, Mrs. Ames remarked: “I’ll go call my husband. He’s at the barns tryin’ to coax a few little pigs from the mother.”
“Oh, oh! Are they tiny little pigs!” cried Natalie excitedly.
“Yes,—not much bigger’n a kitten.”
“Oh dear! Can’t I see them?” asked she anxiously.
Everyone laughed. “Of course you can,” returned Mrs. Ames.
“We will all go and see them,” added Mrs. James. “I like to see little creatures, too.”
So they all walked down the box-edged path-way to the neat out-buildings where Mr. Ames was struggling with two squirming little pink pigs that were determined to run away.
Natalie stood and watched while the battle for supremacy continued, and finally she offered to help hold them. But this was not necessary, as the farmer managed to get them in the pen especially built for the larger pigs of the litter.
“They’ve got to be weaned and give the lean ones a chance to grow better,” explained the farmer, mopping his brow after the struggle had ended.
Natalie was so interested in the barnyard cattle, that the host escorted her about and showed her many amusing and instructive things. Mrs. James enjoyed this visit, also. The modern chicken-houses and duck-yards were admired; the pig-pens, with their clean runs and concrete pools for the pigs to bathe in, were inspected by an astonished Natalie who believed pigs to be filthy animals; and all the other devices for thecleanliness and comfort of the stock were commended; and then they all went back to the house.
Mrs. Ames had hurriedly prepared refreshments, although it was not more than ten o’clock. Ice-cold butter-milk, home-made sponge cake, and fruit, was a tempting sight. Natalie was thirsty after the visit to the barns, and the cold drink proved most refreshing.
While Mrs. Ames played hostess and showed her visitors her flower gardens, the two farmers went to the seed-house and sorted the potato seed Natalie wanted for her own garden. Then several tiny plants were added to this bag,—slips that had been weeded out that morning, and thrown out as superfluous in the Ames’s gardens. These could be transplanted at once by Natalie, and would go on growing, thus giving time for the seeds to sprout.
Natalie enjoyed the flowers and the stock-yard, but she was interested in vegetables, and now she was anxious to get home and plant the potato seed and other slips that had been donated.Hence, the three visitors were soon on their way back to Green Hill.
“Mr. Ames,” began Natalie, as they drove away, “your brother said I could save time in growing the corn if I would soak the kernels in lukewarm water for several hours. He says the soil is quite warm enough now for me to do this, so the swollen corn will not get a chill when it is dropped in the hill.”
“Yeh, I know that, too. I was goin’ to suggest it,” returned Mr. Ames.
“He said the lukewarm water would start the corn swelling better, and by the time Natalie wanted to plant it the water would be cold and the kernel would be the same temperature. The soil would be about the same heat, so we would not be running any risk of failure in hastening the seed,” added Mrs. James.
“Yeh—ye kin do that,” agreed the farmer.
“Another thing your brother said—that I thought good, is this: when we plant slips, such as beets, cauliflower, and other vegetables in a garden bed, to keep the seeds of such kinds apartfrom the plant beds; then when the seeds sprout they won’t confuse us with the older plants,” said Natalie.
“Mr. Ames,” now said Mrs. James, “your brother says he always plants his corn in a rich sandy soil with a mixture of gravel in it, to act as a drain. The more sunshine it gets, the sweeter it tastes, he said.”
Mr. Ames glanced at the speaker with a pitying look. “Diden yuh know that afore he tole you?” was all he said.
Natalie nudged Mrs. James and giggled. But the lady was not silenced by the farmer’s remark. She was enthusiastic about all she had learned and had to debate it with someone.
“He said that he seldom used a compost made of cow-manure, unless it was seasoned with other lighter fertilizer, as it was so heavy it kept all air from permeating to the roots.Buthe added that it formed a splendid foundation for other mixtures to be added to it.”
“Well, diden I say that same thing to yuh?” demanded Mr. Ames.
“Yes, but it is more satisfactory to hear your advice seconded. Now weknowyou were right in your suggestions,” said Mrs. James guilelessly.
“Right here, I wanta tell yuh-all that I brung my brother up in his farmin’ knowledge. And what he knows he learned from me when I was votin’ an’ he was onny in knickers!” was Farmer Ames’s scornful reply.
The rest of that day was spent in planting potato seed, Rachel helping, so that the cut sections need not be dried out. At sundown Mr. Ames went for his horse and buckboard, saying,
“Wall, to-morrer yuh won’t need me, Mis’ James. Everything is goin’ on as fine as kin be, an’ you’se know all about th’ seeds.”
“Oh dear, Mr. Ames!” cried Natalie, in distress, “we will feel as if we are at sea without a rudder.”
The remark pleased the farmer, for he was proud of his experience and loved to have others admit it. So he said: “Well, ef I git time Imight run in at noon when I drives to the store fer mail and house-goods.”
“Please do! We will need you by that time, I am sure,” replied Natalie.
But the seeds and corn and other vegetable products were planted without further mistakes or delay. Each day saw the work advance and by the time the city school closed the garden was well on its way to producing edibles for that season.
The tiny lettuce slips that Mr. Ames’s brother had given Natalie were growing up fresh and green; the radishes showed three to four sturdy little leaves, evidence that tiny red balls were forming under the ground. The cabbages and cauliflowers began to present funny little button-like heads above the soil; and the seeds were showing slender little spears of green where the soft earth was cleft by their protruding points. The tomato vines and other plants started from slips that had been weeded out from the Ames’s farms were doing well; so that Natalie felt a righteous pride in her garden.
The garden was well on its way to producing edibles for that season.The garden was well on its way to producing edibles for that season.
A letter from Miss Mason came the last Friday of school:
Dear Natalie:
Almost before you will have time to digest the contents of this letter we will have descended upon Green Hill Farm. The Girl Scouts in my Patrol packed and shipped the tents and other camping outfit, by express, the first of the week. I wrote the man at the Corner Store to hold them until we called there for them. If Mrs. James, and Rachel and you, have nothing better to do on Sunday, we will be pleased to have you come to our camp and dine with us. We hope to have everything in order and be ready for guests by Sunday noon, as we will arrive at Greenville about noon on Saturday. Until then, I will wish you all rest and peace, as you will need to draw heavily upon the reserve fund of it after we arrive. My Girl Scouts are an active, energetic patrol, and few of them ever stop to sit down or sleep while in camp.
Lovingly your teacher,
Anna Mason.
“Jimmy, Miss Mason says her girls will be here Saturday—that’s to-morrow. But I haven’t heard a word from the other girls about when they will arrive! If only they could comeup and be with us all on Sunday. Don’t you suppose we could telephone Janet and let her arrange it?” asked Natalie anxiously, after reading the letter from Miss Mason.
“Perhaps the girls are planning to pack up and get away from the city for all summer when they do come here. In that case, I don’t see how they could manage to get away on Saturday. But we can telephone and find out,” returned Mrs. James.
So Janet was called over the ’phone, and Natalie heard to her great delight that Janet was coming Saturday evening even though other girls in the group would not leave the city until the middle of the following week.
That afternoon at sundown Natalie inspected her garden critically, trying to judge it from another’s point of view. When she returned to the house she sat down on the piazza beside Mrs. James and sighed.
“I suppose everyone will laugh at my garden. The seeds aren’t big yet,—only the lettuce and other things that I transplanted from the Ames’sfarms. Do you think they really will grow up, Jimmy?”
“Of course they will. Does the sun shine or do we succeed in growinganythingfrom the ground?” laughed Mrs. James.
“But this is different. I am not an experienced farmer and maybe the vegetables won’t grow for me.”
“The poor little seeds never stop to wonder whether you are a farmer or not. They have no partiality. It is their business to grow and bring forth results, so they get busy and attend to their business the moment they are planted. But all things take time to develop,—so with seeds. They do not give you a full-grown head of lettuce or cauliflower in a night.”
This encouraged Natalie so much that she went to sleep with the assurance that her garden would thrive just as well as any farmer’s in the county.
At noon on Saturday Natalie heard the laughter and confused talking of many girls. She ran to the side porch and saw Tompkins’ largespring-wagon approaching the house. Seated in the back of the wagon was a bevy of happy girls, and Miss Mason sat beside the driver.
“Here comes the Patrol, Jimmy!” shouted Natalie, eagerly beckoning to Mrs. James, who was in the living-room.
The wagon drove in the side gate and Si Tompkins halted his horses while Miss Mason called to Natalie:
“Want to jump in and go with us down to the woodland?”
“Run along, Natalie, and I will come down later,” said Mrs. James, smiling a welcome at the merry party in the wagon.
In a few moments Natalie was up beside the teacher, and the wagon moved on down the hill to the river land.
Introductions were not given until the girls had jumped out of the wagon and stood about Miss Mason waiting for orders. Then Natalie found the Girl Scout Patrol consisted of nine happy, bright, intelligent girls, who felt very grateful to her for the privilegeextended them to camp in her woodland that summer.
The camping outfit had been packed in the front end of the wagon, and when it was all removed, the girls started immediately to pitch their tents and do other necessary work for an extended camping-time.
Natalie watched with interest and saw that these girls knew exactly what to do. Miss Mason selected a site where a cold water spring bubbled up under a huge rock and formed a small pool. The overflow ran down the woodland bank into the stream. Quite close to this spring the Patrol would camp, using the water for all needs, and being far enough away from it to keep camp débris from being blown, or thrown, into the pool.
“Girls,” called Miss Mason to her Scouts, “we will use this nice level spot up on the slight elevation for the tents. Here we have natural drainage away from our spring, and there is no possibility of the river seeping up into the ground under the tents. Even the hill back ofus will not drain down upon our site, as there is that shallow valley between our knoll and the further hill.”
So the tents were raised where the Patrol Leader designated, and here they found all the advantages so desired by a group of campers: plenty of sunshine part of the day, breezes whenever the wind blew across the hills, privacy because of the surrounding woods, plenty of dry wood for camp-fires, water from the spring, and the stream farther down to bathe and swim in.
Natalie watched the girls trench about each tent, and she also saw that each tent was placed about twenty-five feet from the next one. There were four tents in all,—two large ones for the girls and a smaller one for Miss Mason, while a tiny one was for a pantry.
While five girls were engaged in completing the tent arrangements, Miss Mason and the other girls in the Patrol sought a suitable spot for the latrine. Here they began to dig a trench and build a shelter. Natalie went with them and learned that a latrine must be away from thewater-supply and in the opposite direction from which the prevailing winds blew toward camp. Miss Mason was most particular about this work.
“That trench is not deep enough, Amy,” said she to one Scout who was leaving the work. “Every trench must be at least two feet deep, one wide, and four feet long. Your pit is only a foot deep, and you have not excavated the dirt from either end. Dig it out clean and pile it alongside so it can be thrown in again to cover over any waste. This latrine is for summer use—not for a week-end camp, you know.”
When the tents were up and ready for use, Miss Mason called the Girl Scouts together.
“Now, girls, let us decide at once what shall be the tasks assigned to each Scout for the coming week. We will have a similar gathering every Saturday afternoon while at camp, and exchange duties so that every Scout in turn will have the pleasure of doing certain duties for a week all summer through.
“First, we will choose a Corporal to assist me for the summer. We may vote for a new Corporal, orallow Helen Marshall to hold her post. Here are nine slips of paper to vote upon. Each girl can cast a vote for Helen, or for another girl in the Patrol, and no one shall know who writes the vote. Sign no name to the paper, but we will soon know what the general wish of the group is.”
Eight girls voted for Helen to continue in the Patrol as Corporal, and it turned out that Helen herself voted for Mary Howe as Corporal.
“Well, Helen is our Corporal still. Now, girls, form ranks so we can designate to each one the duties of the week.”
The eight girls formed in two rows, four in each row, with Helen at the front with the Leader. Then Miss Mason began: “Mary, you shall be camp cook for the first week. Amy is water-scout. Mildred, you are camp-cleaner,—you have all the baggage and tents to look after. Lillian will look after the pantry and dishwashing. Peggy must take full charge of the wood and fire. Elizabeth will be the baker for this week; Alice will see that the camp-grounds andlatrine are kept clean and in order; and Dorothy will have to be shopper and table-worker. Helen, of course, is responsible for all work being done properly, and I must supervise the Patrol and advise each one on any problem. Now, are there any questions to ask about the duties assigned?”
Each Scout knew what was expected of her, so there were no remarks at the time. Miss Mason resumed her talk, to Natalie’s great delight.
“The fire-maker will immediately build a luncheon fire, and the cook will begin preparations for the midday meal, as we are hungry and will lunch before planning further tasks.”
“Miss Mason, where shall I find any food for luncheon?” now asked the camp cook of the Leader.
“In the soap box that the storekeeper placed with the luggage. We have everything there necessary to keep us in food over Sunday. The edibles must be kept under shelter, girls, so reserve the small tent for our pantry for a few days.”
The wood-gatherer ran away to collect such fire-wood as was needed for a slight fire to cook luncheon, the table-scout selected a flat place to spread out the table-cloth, and soon everyone in the Patrol was working industriously. Natalie had nothing to do, and Miss Mason came over to her and entertained.
“Well, Natalie, in the life you’ve led since you left New York, have you any reason to regret coming to Green Hill Farm?”
“I should say not! Why, Miss Mason, these two weeks have simply flown by,—I have had so much to do, and have had so much fun doing it,” exclaimed Natalie enthusiastically.
Miss Mason smiled. “If you continue improving in looks and health as you have in two weeks, Natalie, no one will ever accuse you of being delicate, or pessimistic. I should say you can compete with Janet for health and vivacity now.”
“Did you know Janet is coming this afternoon?” asked Natalie eagerly.
“Yes, she told me the other day that she wasready to run away from the city the moment school closed. She would have started from home last night, but the expressman had not called for her trunk and she had not left out anything to use in case the trunk did not arrive here on time. So they are checking it on her ticket to insure its arrival to-day.”
“I’ll be so glad to see Janet,—she always inspires me with a desire to do more than I want to when I am left to myself,” remarked Natalie.
“That is the effect of her natural energy and activity,” added Miss Mason.
“I was thinking, as I watched you call a meeting of the Scouts, what a corking assistant Janet would make in a Scout Troop. I don’t know what name you give her in a Troop, but in this Patrol you called her a Corporal,” said Natalie.
“In a Troop she would be called a Lieutenant, but she would have to be eighteen years of age, or over, and Janet is not that. So she would have to be a Corporal for a time.”
“Miss Mason, if we five girls want to form a Patrol, can we do so and choose Janet for our Corporal?” asked Natalie.
“If you had eight girls to form a Patrol you could do so, but until you had that number you would have to enlist with an already-formed Patrol. You five girls might join us for a time and, perhaps, secure enough girls living at Greenville to complete the necessary number to start a second Patrol. We have not applied at Headquarters yet for a Charter to form a Troop, but we hope to do so this year, if you girls can found another Patrol and make our membership claim two individual Patrols. I saw a number of girls of your age on our way from the station to Green Hill. I am sure those girls would hail an invitation to join a Scout Patrol.”
“Maybe they would, but I never thought of any girls in Greenville, Miss Mason. I rather thought they would be too busy with home work, or their own pleasures, to bother about Scouts.”
“There is where you wrong them. Not a girlin the country but would love to join such an organization. They can always find enough time to do the necessary requirements of a good Scout, and the pleasure and benefit they get out of a Troop more than repays them for the time used. I expect to interest all the girls of a membership age around Greenville before we return to the city this fall.”
“I’ll talk it over with Jimmy, Miss Mason, and see what she thinks of this idea. I believe the Ames girl would join us, if we told her about the plan,” said Natalie.
“And once the Ames girl was a Scout, she would tell her friends and they all would want to join us,—see?”
“Yes, if they thought it was going to be any fun.”
At this point in the discussion the cook came up and asked Miss Mason to show her certain matters in connection with the soup-kettle. Natalie laughed at the girl’s anxious expression. But when Miss Mason invited her to come, too, and tell them what was wrong with the pot, Nataliehastened to say she would have to go back to the house and get ready to go to the station for Janet!
Mrs. James and Natalie had engaged Amity to call for them and drive them to the station to meet Janet, and when the expected visitor arrived there was a great display of delight on Natalie’s part. All the way from the train to the farm the two girls were eagerly exchanging personal experiences since they had parted in the city.
“Say, Nat,” began Janet, when a lull in confidences gave her time to remember other things, “Mr. Marvin told Dad that you had started a vegetable garden all by yourself! Is that so?”
Natalie smiled joyously. “Yes, and this morning I found my first tiny green spears above ground, Janet! It is lettuce!”
Janet laughed. “You are the last one on earth that I expected to take to truck-farming.”
“But it is the most fun, Janet! I wouldn’t get half as much entertainment out of travelling or motoring as I am having from my garden.”
The moment the girls arrived at the house, therefore, Natalie insisted upon Janet’s going to her garden to see the tiny greens that were the result of the seed-planting.
“Why, look at the fine things growing in those other beds!” exclaimed Janet, allowing her gaze to wander from the place where the almost imperceptible green was showing above the ground.
“Oh yes,—those are tomatoes, potatoes, radishes, cabbages, and other things. But these particular beds are my very own work, so I feel a great joy in them.”
“Aren’t the others yours, too?” asked Janet.
“Yes, but the plants were given me by Farmer Ames. He threw some out of his own gardens because they were too crowded for the best results. I planted them, but I did notraisethem from seeds. My baby plants here are all my very own!”
Janet laughed. She understood just howNatalie felt. It was the result of all her own endeavor—these tiny seedlings.
“Well,” said she, after admiring the garden beds to Natalie’s utmost expectations, “I can’t see what there is left for me to do, if you have succeeded in your farming so soon.”
“I have been thinking of something for you to do, Janet. We’ve got all those barn buildings, but they are empty. If only you could keep chickens and a pig,—wouldn’t that be great?” said Natalie eagerly.
Janet laughed aloud. “Turn me into a stock farmer? I never thought of it, but now that you present the idea, it surely sounds fascinating. Can’t you see me currying the horses, and milking cows, or chasing a pig around the farm?”
“I am in earnest, Jan! You can easily keep chickens and sell eggs. As for a pig—why, Mr. Ames’s brother wants to sell a few of a litter he has at his farm. They are the cutest little things I ever saw. You’ll want to own one when you see them.”
Janet laughed again, as Natalie’s suggestionwas so foreign to anything she had thought of. Not that it was unacceptable, however. The more she thought of the plan, the more it appealed to her as being worth while trying out.
That evening Mrs. James sat with the two girls talking over the plan of keeping chickens and other farmyard stock.
“I can manage the initial investment all right, from my allowance that I have saved up, but how do I know that the poor creatures will not die or get sick under my management?” said Janet laughingly.
“We’ve got Mr. Ames near at hand, if a chicken gets the pip,—that is what they get more than anything else, I’ve learned,” said Natalie.
Both her hearers laughed hilariously at her remark, and Janet finally said: “Well, I just think I’ll experiment for fun! Where can I buy some chickens?”
“Oh, any farmer will sell you a hen,” returned Natalie.
“But I want more than one hen,” said Janet.
“You’ll have to raise them yourself, just as Iam raising vegetables from seeds. You get a hen, put some eggs in a nest and make her sit upon them. In three weeks you’ll have all the young chicks you want to start with,” explained Natalie.
“It’s too bad to-morrow is Sunday, or I’d go over to Farmer Ames in the morning and see about hens and a pig,” said Janet regretfully.
“We’re all invited to go to the Scout camp to spend the day to-morrow. But you and I will start for Ames’s early Monday,” replied Natalie eagerly.
So it was decided, after several hours’ serious talk, that Janet should venture to raise chickens and keep a pig.
The next day was very pleasant, and being Sunday, Mrs. James permitted the two girls to sleep an hour longer than was the daily custom. When they were through with breakfast, and had visited the gardens to see if any fresh spears of green had made an appearance since the previous evening, they all started for the Scout camp.
“Yoh-all go on ahead, an’ I’ll be along affer-while. I’se goin’ to tote along a pan of hot biskits fer the club,” said Rachel.
“All right, then we’ll warn the cook that she need not worry about Scout bread for dinner,” laughed Mrs. James.
Janet was curious to visit the camp and see what a lot of Girl Scouts did with themselves. Natalie had told her about Miss Mason’s proposal to interest some of the Greenville girls, that, with the five who would live on the farm that summer, they might organize a second Patrol, and the two Patrols could then apply for a Troop charter.
The Sunday visit proved to be very interesting and satisfactory, for both girls saw how much the Scouts could do that they had never dreamed of before. The Sunday dinner that was prepared and served by these girls was delicious, and everything in camp was conducted according to Scout rules. When Mrs. James and her two charges were ready to start for the house, both Natalie and Janet were enthused with the ambition to launch a campaign for a second Patrol without delay.