"
Jimmie, who had been eating his breakfast in silence, rose and
looked toward his mother.
"I suppose I have to work in that old garden?" he said
aggrievedly.
"You know what your father said," replied Mother Morrison.
Jimmie did not like to weed, and the Morrison garden, when it came
his turn, was often sadly neglected. He and Ralph and Dick were
responsible for the care of the garden two weeks at a time during
the growing season.
"Well, maybe if I stick at it this morning, I can go swimming this
afternoon," muttered Jimmie. "Dad didn't say the whole thing had
to be weeded today, did he?"
"He wants the new heads of lettuce transplanted, and all the
onions weeded," answered Mother Morrison. "You know you were asked
to tend to those a week ago, Jimmie."
Jimmie flung himself out of the house in rather a bad temper. He
did not like to transplant lettuce and the onions must be weeded
by hand. Other vegetables could be handled with a hoe, or the
garden cultivator, but the eight long rows of new onions must be
carefully done down on one's hands and knees.
"Jimmie!" said a little voice at his elbow as he got the trowel
and the wheelbarrow from the toolhouse. "Jimmie?"
"Well, what do you want?" demanded Jimmie shortly.
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