"what's the matter, mr. porter?" asked mr. blake, looking over the fence where sammie's father was working in his garden. "has our little poodle dog been scratching up your plants?"
"oh, no. roly is very good. he seems to know we want the thing's in our gardens to grow, and he only walks carefully between the rows, and doesn't scratch a bit," answered the neighbor.
"what is he barking at now?" asked mab, for the little poodle dog had crawled under the fence and had gone next door, as he often did. he was standing near red-haired sammie now.
"he's barkin' at a big, green bug," said the little boy.
"a green bug; eh?" spoke mr. porter. "maybe we'd better see what it is," he added, speaking to daddy blake.
"i rather think we had. there are so many bugs, worms and other things trying to spoil our gardens, that we must not let any of them get away."
"he's a awful big bug, almost as long as roly's tail," called sammie from where he stood near a tomato plant.
"well, roly's tail isn't very big," laughed daddy blake. "but a bug or worm of that size could eat a lot of plant leaves."
"don't touch it—daddy will kill it!" called mr. porter to his little boy. but sammie had no idea of touching the queer bug he had seen, and at which the poodle dog was barking.
"oh, it's one of the big green tomato worms!" exclaimed mr. blake when he saw it. "they can do a lot of damage. i hope they don't get in my garden. we must kill as many as we can," and he knocked the worm to the ground and stepped on it. roly-poly barked harder than ever at this, thinking, perhaps, that he had helped get rid of the unpleasant, crawling thing.
"we'll look over your tomato patch and see if there are any more worms," suggested mr. blake to his neighbor.
"yes, and then i'll come and help you clear your plants of the pests," said mr. porter. "we want to have our gardens good this year, so we won't have to spend so many of our pennies for food next winter."
a few more of the green worms were found on the tomato vines, and there were more on daddy blake's. so many were found that he could not be sure he had knocked them all off.
"i think i will have to spray the plants with paris green as i did the potatoes," he said. "the tomatoes will not be ready to pick—even the earliest—for some weeks and by that time the poison will have been washed off by the rain."
"making a garden is lots of work" said hal, next day, when he and mab had helped their father spray the tomato plants.
"yes, indeed," agreed mr. blake. "but, like everything else in this world, you can't have anything without working for it."
"i thought all you had to do in a garden," said mab, "was to plant the seed and it would grow into cabbage, radishes, corn, beans or whatever you wanted."
"you are beginning to learn otherwise," spoke her father, "and it is a good thing. mother nature is wise and good, but she does not make it too easy for us. she will grow beautiful flowers, and useful fruits and vegetables from tiny seeds, but she also grows bad weeds and sends eating-bugs that we must fight against, if we want things to grow on our farms and gardens. so we still have much work before us to make our gardens a success."
"we haven't had much to eat from them yet," said mother blake, who had been hoeing among her carrots. "i hope we can pick something soon."
"we had radishes," said hal.
"and well soon have tomatoes," added his father. "now that i have driven away the eating worms the vines will grow better and the tomatoes will ripen faster."
a week later on some of the vines there were quite large green tomatoes. hal and mab watched them eagerly, noting how they grew and swelled larger, until, one day, mab came running in, crying:
"oh, one tomato has a red cheek!"
"that's where it got sunburned," said her father with a smile. "that shows they are getting ripe. soon we will have some for the table."
in a few days more tomatoes on the vines had red, rosy cheeks, some being red all over. these daddy blake let hal and mab pick, and they brought them in the house.
"oh, we shall have some of our own tomatoes for lunch!" cried mother blake when she saw them. "how fine! our garden is beginning to give us back something to pay us for all the work we put on it."
"but these are daddy's tomatoes," said hal. "he had the first thing, after the radishes, for the table from his garden, and mab and i haven't anything. daddy'll get his own prize."
"no, i promise you i will not take the prize for these tomatoes, even if i did raise them in my part of the garden," said daddy blake with a smile. "and i won't count the radishes we had before the tomatoes were ripe, either. those belonged to all of us.
"the prize isn't going to be given away until all the crops are harvested, or brought in, and then we'll see who has the most and the best of things that will keep over winter."
"can you keep tomatoes all winter?" asked mab of her father.
"well, no, not exactly. but mother can put them into cans, after they have been cooked, and she can make ketchup and spices of them—chili sauce and the like—as well as pickles, so, after all, you might say my tomatoes will last all winter.
"sometimes you can keep tomatoes fresh for quite a while down in a cool, dry cellar, if you pull the vines up by the roots, with the tomatoes still on them, and cover the roots with dirt. but they will not keep quite all winter, i believe. at any rate i'm not going to keep ours that way. we'll can them."
mother blake sliced the garden tomatoes for supper. she also made a dressing for them, with oil, vinegar and spices, though hal and mab liked their tomatoes best with just salt on.
"tomatoes are not only good to eat—i mean they taste good—but they are healthful for one," said daddy blake. "it is not so many years ago that no one ate tomatoes. they feared they were poison, and in some parts of the country they were called ladies' or love apples. but now many, many thousands of cans of tomatoes are put up every year, so that we may have them in winter as well as in summer, though of course the canned ones are not as nice tasting as the ones fresh from the garden, such as we have now."
it was not long before there was lettuce from the blake garden, and mother blake said it was the best she had ever eaten. lettuce, too, daddy blake explained, would not keep over winter, though it is sold in many stores when there is snow on the ground. but it comes from down south, where there is no winter, being sent up on fast express trains.
"lettuce is also as good to eat as are tomatoes," remarked daddy blake. "it is said to be good for persons who have too many nerves, or, rather, for those whose nerves are not in good condition."
one day, when hal and mab came home from school, they hurried out, after leaving their books in the house, for they wanted to play some games."
"aren't you going to work in your gardens a little while?" asked their mother. "daddy is out there."
"is he?" cried hal. "did he come home early?"
"yes, on purpose to hoe among his tomatoes, i think he is cutting down the weeds which grew very fast since the last rain we had."
"our parts of the garden are all right," said hal. "my corn doesn't need hoeing."
"nor my beans," said mab. "but let's go out and see daddy, hal. maybe he'll tell us something new about the garden."
"well, where are your hoes, toodlekins?" called daddy blake, when he saw the two children coming toward him.
"there aren't any weeds in my corn," said hal.
"nor in my beans," added mab.
"not very many, it is true," said daddy blake. "but still there are some, and if you cut down the weeds when they are small, and when there are not many of them, you will find it easier to keep your garden looking neat, and, at the same time, make sure your crops will grow better, than if you wait and only hoe when the weeds are big.
"gardens should be made to look nice, as well as be made free from weeds just because it is a good thing for the plants," went on daddy blake. "a good gardener takes pride in his garden. he wants to see every weed cut down. besides, hoeing around your corn and beans makes the dirt nice and finely pulverized—like the pulverized sugar with which mother makes icing for the cakes. and the finer the dirt is around the roots of a plant the more moisture it will hold and the better it will be for whatever is growing, as i have told you before."
"well, we'll hoe a little bit," said hal.
he and his sister got their hoes and soon they were so interested in cutting down the weeds in between the rows that they forgot about going off to play. hal noticed that the ears of corn on his stalks were getting larger inside the green husk that kept the soft and tender kernels from being broken, as might have happened if they were out in the air, as tomatoes grow.
and so the gardens grew, just as did that of "mistress mary, quite contrary," about whom you may read in mother goose, or some book like that. sometimes it rained and again it was quite dry, with a hot sun beating down out of the blue sky.
"if we don't get rain pretty soon we shall have to water the gardens," said daddy blake one night after about a week of very dry weather. around the roots of the many plants the earth was caked and hard, so that very little air could get down to nourish the growing things.
"what do people do who have gardens where it doesn't rain as often as it does here, daddy?" asked mab.
"well in very dry countries, such as some parts of ours near the places called deserts," said mr. blake, "men build large dams, and hold the water back in big ponds or lakes so it will last from one rainy season to another. the water is let run from the lake through little ditches, or pipes, so that the thirsty plants may drink. this is called the irrigation method, for to irrigate means to wet, soak or moisten with water. each farmer or gardener is allowed to buy as much water as he needs, opening little gates at the ends of the main ditches or sluices, and letting the water run over his dry ground, in which he has dug furrows to lead the water where he most needs it.
"and sometimes, when there is too little water to use much of it this way, the gardeners do what they call intensive cultivation. those are big words, but they mean that the man just hoes his ground every day around his plants, instead of perhaps once a week.
"you know there is moisture in the air, and at night dew falls. this wets the ground a little, and by digging and turning over the earth around the roots of his plants, the gardener makes it very fine so it holds the moisture longer. in this way a little bit of rain, or dew, lasts a long time. come out now, and i'll show you something you perhaps have not noticed."
daddy took hal and mab to the garden, and with a hoe he pointed to a place around hal's corn stalks where the dry ground was hard, and baked by the sun.
a few strokes of the hoe and daddy blake had turned up some of the underlying earth. hal and mab saw that it was darker in color than that on top, and when they put their hands down in it the earth felt moist.
"what makes it?" asked mab.
"because the underneath part of the ground held the moisture in it. the top part was baked dry and the moisture had all gone away—evaporated in the sun, if you want to use big words, just as water dries in your hands after you wash them, even if you do not soak it up with a towel."
"does a towel soak up water?" asked mab. "i thought it just wiped it off our hands."
"no, the towel is like a sponge," said daddy blake. "the fuzzier the towel the more like a sponge it is. each little bit of linen or cotton, is really a tiny hollow tube—a capillary tube it is called—and these tubes suck up the water on your hands as the same fuzzy capillary tubes in a piece of blotting paper suck up the ink. a towel is a sponge or a blotter. and the earth is a sort of sponge when it comes to sucking up the rain and dew. it also holds the water near the plant, when the ground is finely pulverized, so the tomato vine, the corn stalk or the bean bush can drink when it gets thirsty."
"my! there's a lot to know about a garden; isn't there?" said mab with a sigh.
"yes, there is," agreed hal. "i don't s'pose we'll ever know it all."
"no," said his father, "you will not. there will always be something better to learn, not only for you but for everyone. but learn all you can, and learn, first of all, that plants must have sunshine, air and water to make them grow. now we'll water the garden."
there were no signs of rain, and though the ground was a little moist in some parts of the garden daddy blake thought all the growing things would be better for a wetting from the hose. so he attached it to the faucet and let hal and mab take turns sprinkling. as the drops fell on the thirsty ground there floated up a most delicious smell, like the early spring rain, which helps mother nature to awaken the sleeping grass and flowers.
"i guess my corn is wet enough," said hal, after a bit. he had only been sprinkling a little while when he heard one of his boy friends calling him from the street in front.
"oh, your corn isn't half wet enough," laughed daddy blake. "it is almost better not to water the garden at all than not to give it enough, for it only hardens the dirt on top. give the corn a good soaking, just as if it had rained hard. a good watering for the garden means about two quarts of water to every square foot in your plots. don't be afraid of the water. your plants will do so much better for it. but don't spray them too heavily, so the dirt is washed away. let the hose point up in the air, and then the drops will fall like rain."
hal kept the hose longer, giving his corn a good wetting, and he could almost see the green stalks stand up straighter when he had finished. they were refreshed, just as a tired horse is made to feel, better, after a hot day in the streets, when he has a cool drink and is sprinkled with the hose.
"roly, get out the way or you'll be all wet!" cried mab, as the little poodle dog ran around her beans when she was watering them.
"bow-wow!" barked roly, just as if he said he didn't care.
"well, if you want to get wet—all right!" laughed mab. "here it comes!"
she pointed the hose straight at roly and in a second he was wet through.
"ki-yi! ki-yi! ki-yi!" he yelped as he ran out of the garden. "bow-wow! ki-yi!"
"well, it will cool him off, and i guess he wanted it after all," said daddy blake. "but roly is a good little dog. he only dug once in the garden since he came back, but i tapped him on the end of his nose with my finger, and scolded him, and he hasn't done it since."
the next day daddy blake took hal and mab to the garden again, and showed them how he was building little wooden frames under his tomatoes to keep the red vegetables off the ground where they might lie in the mud and sand and get dirty.
"the frames help to hold up the vines so they will not break when the tomatoes get too heavy for them," said mr. blake.
"plants have lots of trouble," said hal. "you have to put their seeds in the ground, keep the weeds away from them, hoe them, water them, and keep the bugs and worms away. is there anything else that can happen to things in a garden, daddy?"
"yes, sometimes heavy hail storms come and beat down the plants, or tear the leaves to ribbons so the plants die, and bear nothing. this often happens to corn, which has broad leaves easily torn by hail."
"what is hail?" asked hal.
"well, it's a sort of frozen rain," said daddy blake. "often in a thunder shower the wind plays strange tricks. it whirls the rain drops about, first in some cool air, far above the earth and then whips them into some warm air. the cool air freezes the rain, and when it falls it is not in the shape of beautiful crystals, as is the snow, but is in hard, round balls, sometimes as large as marbles. often the hail will break windows."
"i hope it doesn't hail in our nice garden," said hal.
"it will hurt your corn worse than it would my beans," said mab. "i hope it doesn't hail, too, hal."
but two or three days after that, one evening when the blakes were sitting on the steps after having worked in the garden, there came from the west low mutterings of thunder. then the lightning began to flash and daddy blake said:
"we are going to have a shower, i think. well, it will be good for the garden."
and soon the big drops began splashing down, followed by another sound.
"oh, it's hailing!" cried aunt lolly. "hear the hail stones!"
"i love to see it!" exclaimed mab. "but i hope it doesn't hail very big stones."
however the stones from the sky—stones of ice that did not melt for some time after they rattled down—were rather large. they bounced up from the sidewalk and on the path around the blake house.
"where's hal?" suddenly asked his father. "i want to show him and mab how the inside of hail stones look. i'll run out and get some as soon as the shower slackens a little."
it was raining and hailing hard now, and the lightning was flashing brightly, while the thunder was rumbling like big cannon.
"hal was here a minute ago," said his mother. "i wonder if he could have run out in the storm?"
just then, from his porch, mr. porter called something to daddy blake. all mab and her mother could hear was:
"hal—hail—umbrella!"
"oh, i hope nothing has happened to him!" said mrs. blake. "you had better go look for him, daddy!"
