Chapter 5 IN THE FLOWER GARDEN.

In the afternoon they all went into the garden. Donald and Mrs. Leonard began at once to set out the tomato plants that had been started in a box. Susie and Uncle Robert walked about, planning where the flower seeds should be planted.

"The verbenas are in this bed," said Susie. "I had them last year. I wish they would begin to come up. Don't you think, uncle, it will be nice to have the mignonette in with them?"

"Yes," replied Uncle Robert, "but where are your nasturtiums?"

"I haven't any nasturtiums," said Susie. "I wish I had. Jennie Wilson's mother had them last year. They bloomed all summer."

"We can send for some seeds and get them in time to plant," said Uncle

Robert.

"Oh, thank you, uncle," exclaimed Susie. "How nice! I'll save this big bed for nasturtiums, and the bachelor's buttons can go over there."

[Illustration: Poppies]

"The nasturtiums would do better by the fence and the porch," said Uncle

Robert. "They like to climb."

"All right," said Susie; "then we can have this bed for something else."

"Have you any poppies?" asked Uncle Robert, smiling. "Poppies are my favorite flowers."

"Are they, uncle? Then we'll have poppies in this bed."

"Thank you, dear," replied Uncle Robert, taking out his notebook. "We'll send for the poppy seeds, too."

"I think that finishes the beds," said Susie. "Let me see," and, walking down the path, she pointed out where each kind of flower was to grow.

"You might draw it now," said Uncle Robert; "then we'll make no mistake."

"Oh, goody!" cried Susie. "That's what I'll do. Wait until I get a pencil and paper."

"Here is a pencil," said Uncle Robert, taking one from his pocket, "and perhaps this old envelope will do to draw it on."

But Susie thought not. "It's too small," she said. "I'll get a nice piece of paper in a minute."

Away she ran to the house, and soon came back with a large sheet of fresh white letter paper in one hand and Frank's geography in the other.

"I'm going to draw my garden," she called to Donald and her mother, holding up the paper for them to see.

"I'll make the paths first," she said, laying the paper on the geography, and taking the pencil from Uncle Robert. "Then I can put in the beds afterward."

When the paths were drawn, Susie named the beds and marked them off on the paper.

"Please write the names for me, Uncle Robert," she said. "I can't spell all the big words."

"I will write them on this paper," said Uncle Robert, "and when you see how they look you can write them on your plan."

"Oh, yes," said Susie, "that will be the nicest way."

"See, mother," cried Susie, running to her, "this is my garden. Now I know just what is to be in every bed."

[Illustration: Susie's garden.]

"Where are you going to get poppies?" asked Donald, looking at the plan on the paper.

"Uncle Robert is going to send for the seed," answered Susie. "He likes poppies best of all the flowers. We are going to have nasturtiums, too. They are to grow by the porch and the fence."

"That will be fine, dear," said Mrs. Leonard. "What a beautiful garden we shall have!"

"I can hardly wait," cried Susie, dancing along the walk. "Come, uncle, let's plant what seeds we have now."

"Do we need to do anything to the ground," asked Uncle Robert, "before the seeds are put in?"

"Only rake over the top a little," said Susie, taking up her rake and going to work. "It has been spaded. See how light and fine it is underneath! Ugh! I wish the old worms would keep out!"

"Don't be too hard on the worms," said Uncle Robert. "They are your best helpers."

"I don't see how that is, uncle," said Susie, looking up in surprise.

"You just said the soil was light and fine," said Uncle Robert. "Don't you know you have to thank the worms for keeping it so?"

"Are you sure, uncle?" asked Susie. "I thought the worms ate the plants."

"The earthworms never eat the plants," said Uncle Robert. "They eat the soil, and so keep it worked over. It is the cutworm that eats the plants."

Just then Donald came over from the vegetable garden.

"Why, you've only just begun," he said. "We're all through. Don't those tomato plants look nice?"

"Well," said Susie, "you didn't draw your garden. That took a long time, didn't it, uncle? You rake those beds for me, Don, while I put the seeds in."

"I'd just as soon," said Donald, taking the rake. "What goes here?"

"Mignonette," said Susie. "When any one wants to know about my garden now, they can look at the drawing."

Uncle Robert smiled.

"What makes you think you'll have mignonette there?" he asked, as Susie marked a little furrow with a stick in the soft, warm soil.

"Why, these are mignonette seeds," she replied. "I gathered them myself.

Don't you think they'll grow, uncle?"

"Certainly I do," replied Uncle Robert.

"It would be a pretty dead seed," said Donald, "that wouldn't grow in this soil."

"Are seeds alive?" asked Uncle Robert, smiling.

"Why, I-I don't know," said Donald, looking puzzled. "I never thought about it. I just said that. They don't look like it, that's a fact, but they surely wouldn't grow if they were dead, would they?"

"Do all seeds grow in the same way?" asked Uncle Robert.

"I never thought about it," said Donald.

"Neither did I," said Susie. "I just know if I plant mignonette, mignonette will grow; and if I plant sweet peas, sweet peas will grow. That's all I ever thought about it."

"Would you like to know?" asked Uncle Robert.

"Oh, yes," said Susie.

"How can we?" asked Donald. "The seeds are in the ground, and we can't see them."

"If Susie is willing to dig up one of her sweet peas," said Uncle Robert, "perhaps it will tell us what it has been doing since she planted it last week."

"Oh, yes," said Susie. "See if you can find one, Don. I put lots in."

Down on their knees went Susie and Donald, and began digging in the soil.

"Here is one," said Donald, "just ready to come up, and another close to it. The tip of it must have been through. See, it is green."

"Wouldn't it be green in the ground?" asked Susie, looking closely at the tiny plant.

"Why, no," said Donald. "Things are never green when they're covered up. It's light that makes things green. Don't you know how yellow the grass gets if a board lies on it, and what yellow stalks the potatoes have when they sprout in the cellar? It must be the light that makes them green."

"Oh, yes," said Susie. "But see how big that pea is! It's about twice as big as it was when I planted it."

[Illustration: Sprouting pea.]

"See," said Donald, "the roots grow from the same place that the stem does. I should think it would be better if one came from one side of the pea, and one from the other."

"What becomes of the rest of the seed?" asked Uncle Robert.

"I don't know," said Susie. "Is it of any use?"

"It is of the greatest use," replied Uncle Robert. "The little pea plant couldn't live without it. It is its food that the mother sweet pea gathered last summer from the soil and air, and stored away in the little round ball for her baby to feed on until it should be big enough to get its own food."

"Do you really mean, uncle," cried Susie, with shining eyes, "that the sweet peas I have planted in that bed are the children of those I had last year?"

"Why not?" asked Uncle Robert, with a smile.

"I never thought of it before," said Susie, looking at the tiny plant in her hand; "but I like it. It seems just like a family."

"And that's what it is," said Uncle Robert.

"Don't you think this baby had better go back to bed?" said Susie, making a deep hole in the ground.

"Wait a moment, Susie," said Uncle Robert.

"Suppose we take it for a visit to the beans, and see if they grow like it."

So they went to the vegetable garden, where they found a great many plants, each with two strong, thick leaves sticking through the soil. Some were quite green and showed a tiny shoot between them. Others were yellow, with only the tips turned green.

"Dig one up, Don," said Susie, "and let's see if it is like the baby pea."

Donald pulled one up, but no bean was to be seen. The stem grew straight into the ground, ending with a little bunch of roots.

"Where's the bean?" asked Susie.

"These two leaves must be the bean," said Donald. "Don't they look like it?" He took a bean from his pocket and held it close to the little plant.

"Well, I never!" cried Susie. "If those two leaves aren't just the bean split open! Are they any good that way, uncle?"

"Yes, indeed," said Uncle Robert, smiling.

"They feed the little bean just as the pea does. But they do even more. What do you think they will do when the sun goes down and the air gets cool?"

[Illustration: Sprouting bean.]

"Oh, I know." said Donald. "I've seen them lots of times. They just shut together tight." "And that keeps the little bud you see in there as warm as you are in your bed."

"Isn't that wonderful?" said Susie. "Why, uncle, it's just as if they could think!"

"The leaves drop off after a while," said Donald. "I often see them lying on the ground."

"Yes," said Uncle Robert. "When the plant is strong enough to take care of itself, their work is done."

"Are there any other plants that make leaves out of the seeds, uncle?" asked Donald.

"Oh? yes," replied Uncle Robert. "Squashes and pumpkins do, and many others. Some have more perfect leaves than these. Let us look at the morning glories by the porch."

[Illustration: Morning glory.]

"They come up every year by themselves," said Susie.

She ran to her garden, saying, "I'm going to put this pea-baby to bed again. Do you think it will grow, uncle?"

"It may, but it is not good for it to be out of bed too long."

"I'll put a stick by it," said Susie, "so I can watch it. Good-by, baby," giving the ground a little pat; "go to sleep."

Then she ran after Uncle Robert and Donald.

"How thick the morning glories are!" said Donald. "Some of them have several leaves on, but here is one with only two."

"They don't look as the bean leaves do," said Susie. "The beans are so thick! These have real leaves."

"Yes," said Uncle Robert, "and if you could see them in the seed, you would see these leaves all curled up in their hard coat."

"This one is just putting its head through the ground," said Susie, "and it has part of the shell on it yet."

"It looks as the little chickens do sometimes," laughed Donald, "when they come out of the nest with a piece of the shell sticking to their backs."

"That hard shell is a great protection to the tender plant as it works its way up through the soil," said Uncle Robert.

"If these seed leaves are real leaves, uncle," asked Donald, "what feeds the baby morning glories?"

"There is plenty of food in the seed around the leaves," said Uncle Robert. "When the seed gets moist in the ground, it becomes so soft that the plant can use it. Have you ever noticed when you were eating corn the little hard bud that grows in each grain close to the cob?"

"Yes, uncle," answered Susie. "That is the sweetest part of the corn."

"That is the part," said Uncle Robert, "from which the new plant grows, and all the rest of the grain is the food stored up for it."

"I wish we had some corn," said Susie, "so we could see it."

"I'll go and get some," said Donald.

"Oh, do, Don," said Susie, "and while he's gone, Uncle Robert, I can plant the rest of my seeds. I have only a few left."

So Donald ran to the cornfield and Susie went to the garden. When he came back she had finished, and they joined Uncle Robert on the piazza.

"The corn grows out of the side of the seed," said Donald. "See what a big root it has for such a little plant!"

[Illustration: Sprouting corn.]

"How pretty those leaves are!" said Susie. "They look like two little green feathers." "Some one else had the same thought, Susie," said Uncle Robert. "Did you ever hear the story the poet Longfellow tells about how the corn came to the Indians? You know it is called 'Indian corn.'"

"No, uncle," said Susie. "Do tell us."

So as they sat beside him on the piazza. Uncle Robert told the story of

Hiawatha and Mondamin.

"Hiawatha was a brave young Indian chief," began Uncle Robert, "who wanted to help his people. He knew that there were times when they had no food. In the winter the birds flew away. The 'big sea water,' as they called the great lake, was frozen over, and they could catch no fish. There were no wild berries in the woods.

"'Master of Life,' he cried,'must our lives depend on these things?'

"He was very unhappy. He could not eat. He lay in his wigwam, fasting and praying for some good to come to his people.

"One evening as he lay watching the setting sun he saw a youth coming toward him. His dress was green and yellow, and over his yellow hair he wore a bright green plume.

"'The Master of Life has sent me,' said the youth. 'I am Mondamin. It is only by hard labor Hiawatha, that you can gain the answer to your prayer. Rise now, and wrestle with me.'

"Hiawatha was weak from fasting, but he did as Mondamin commanded. Until the sun had set they wrestled together. Then Mondamin went away as silently as he had come.

"A second time he came, and a third. Then he said: "'You have fought bravely, Hiawatha. I shall come once more. You will conquer me. Then you must take off my dress of green and yellow and my nodding plumes. Make a bed in the soft warm earth for me to lie in. Let nothing come to disturb me as I slumber. Only let the sunshine and the rain fall upon me. You must watch beside me, Hiawatha, until my sleep is over.'

"Then he was gone.

"When they wrestled the next night it was as Mondamin had said. He was conquered. Then, day after day, Hiawatha came and watched,

"'Till at length a small green feather

From the earth shot slowly upward.'"

"There it is," whispered Susie.

"Sh!" said Donald.

"Then another and another," continued Uncle Robert, "and before long the corn was waving its long, green foliage in the sunshine.

"'It is Mondamin!' cried Hiawatha,'the friend of man, Mondamin!'"

"What a lovely story!" cried Susie as Uncle Robert finished. "I wish

Frank could have heard it."

"We'll find it in your mother's book of Longfellow's poems and let Frank read it," said Uncle Robert.

"Let's tell him about the seeds first," said Donald. "He'll like it better then."

[Illustration: A stalk of corn.]