"
Monday and Tuesday passed by without further excitement; but Wednesday
morning, while Mr. Gray was planting his newly ploughed vegetable-garden,
Mrs. Cary sauntered out, and sat down beside the place where he was
working, apparently oblivious of the fact that damp ground is supposed
to be as detrimental to feminine wearing apparel as it is to feminine
constitutions.
"I've been watching you from the window as long as I could stand it," she
said, "now I've come to beg. I want a garden, too, a flower-garden. Do
you mind if I dig up your front yard?"
He laughed, supposing that she was joking. "Dig all you want to," he
said; "I don't believe you'll do much harm."
"Thanks. I'll try not to. Have I your full permission to try my
hand and see?"
"You certainly have."
"Is there some boy in the village I could hire to do the first heavy
work and the mowing, and pull up the weeds from time to time if they get
ahead of me?"
Howard Gray leaned on his hoe. "You don't need to hire a boy," he said
gravely; "we'll be only too glad to help you all you need.
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