الفصل الفصل 18 · CROPS

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Chapter 18. CROPS

The gardens did well that summer, and in September the little crops were

gathered in with much rejoicing. Jack and Ned joined their farms and

raised potatoes, those being a good salable article. They got twelve

bushels, counting little ones and all, and sold them to Mr. Bhaer at a

fair price, for potatoes went fast in that house. Emil and Franz devoted

themselves to corn, and had a jolly little husking in the barn, after

which they took their corn to the mill, and came proudly home with meal

enough to supply the family with hasty-pudding and Johnny-cake for a

long time. They would not take money for their crop; because, as Franz

said, “We never can pay Uncle for all he has done for us if we raised

corn for the rest of our days.”

Nat had beans in such abundance that he despaired of ever shelling them,

till Mrs. Jo proposed a new way, which succeeded admirably. The dry

pods were spread upon the barn-floor, Nat fiddled, and the boys danced

quadrilles on them, till they were thrashed out with much merriment and

very little labor.

Tommy's six weeks' beans were a failure; for a dry spell early in the

season hurt them, because he gave them no water; and after that he was

so sure that they could take care of themselves, he let the poor

things struggle with bugs and weeds till they were exhausted and died

a lingering death. So Tommy had to dig his farm over again, and plant

peas. But they were late; the birds ate many; the bushes, not being

firmly planted, blew down, and when the poor peas came at last, no one

cared for them, as their day was over, and spring-lamb had grown

into mutton. Tommy consoled himself with a charitable effort; for he

transplanted all the thistles he could find, and tended them carefully

for Toby, who was fond of the prickly delicacy, and had eaten all he

could find on the place. The boys had great fun over Tom's thistle

bed; but he insisted that it was better to care for poor Toby than for

himself, and declared that he would devote his entire farm next year to

thistles, worms, and snails, that Demi's turtles and Nat's pet owl might

have the food they loved, as well as the donkey. So like shiftless,

kind-hearted, happy-go-lucky Tommy!

Demi had supplied his grandmother with lettuce all summer, and in the

autumn sent his grandfather a basket of turnips, each one scrubbed up

till it looked like a great white egg. His Grandma was fond of salad,

and one of his Grandpa's favorite quotations was,

“Lucullus, whom frugality could charm,

Ate roasted turnips at the Sabine farm.”

Therefore these vegetable offerings to the dear domestic god and goddess

were affectionate, appropriate, and classical.

Daisy had nothing but flowers in her little plot, and it bloomed all

summer long with a succession of gay or fragrant posies. She was very

fond of her garden, and delved away in it at all hours, watching over

her roses, and pansies, sweet-peas, and mignonette, as faithfully and

tenderly as she did over her dolls or her friends. Little nosegays were

sent into town on all occasions, and certain vases about the house

were her especial care. She had all sorts of pretty fancies about her

flowers, and loved to tell the children the story of the pansy, and show

them how the step-mother-leaf sat up in her green chair in purple and

gold; how the two own children in gay yellow had each its little seat,

while the step children, in dull colors, both sat on one small stool,

and the poor little father in his red nightcap, was kept out of sight

in the middle of the flower; that a monk's dark face looked out of the

monk's-hood larkspur; that the flowers of the canary-vine were so like

dainty birds fluttering their yellow wings, that one almost expected

to see them fly away, and the snapdragons that went off like little

pistol-shots when you cracked them. Splendid dollies did she make out of

scarlet and white poppies, with ruffled robes tied round the waist with

grass blade sashes, and astonishing hats of coreopsis on their

green heads. Pea-pod boats, with rose-leaf sails, received these

flower-people, and floated them about a placid pool in the most charming

style; for finding that there were no elves, Daisy made her own,

and loved the fanciful little friends who played their parts in her

summer-life.

Nan went in for herbs, and had a fine display of useful plants, which

she tended with steadily increasing interest and care. Very busy was

she in September cutting, drying, and tying up her sweet harvest, and

writing down in a little book how the different herbs are to be used.

She had tried several experiments, and made several mistakes; so she

wished to be particular lest she should give little Huz another fit by

administering wormwood instead of catnip.

Dick, Dolly, and Rob each grubbed away on his small farm, and made more

stir about it than all the rest put together. Parsnips and carrots were

the crops of the two D.'s; and they longed for it to be late enough to

pull up the precious vegetables. Dick did privately examine his carrots,

and plant them again, feeling that Silas was right in saying it was too

soon for them yet.

Rob's crop was four small squashes and one immense pumpkin. It really

was a “bouncer,” as every one said; and I assure you that two small

persons could sit on it side by side. It seemed to have absorbed all the

goodness of the little garden, and all the sunshine that shone down on

it, and lay there a great round, golden ball, full of rich suggestions

of pumpkin-pies for weeks to come. Robby was so proud of his mammoth

vegetable that he took every one to see it, and, when frosts began to

nip, covered it up each night with an old bedquilt, tucking it round as

if the pumpkin was a well-beloved baby. The day it was gathered he would

let no one touch it but himself, and nearly broke his back tugging it

to the barn in his little wheelbarrow, with Dick and Dolly harnessed

in front to give a heave up the path. His mother promised him that the

Thanksgiving-pies should be made from it, and hinted vaguely that she

had a plan in her head which would cover the prize pumpkin and its owner

with glory.

Poor Billy had planted cucumbers, but unfortunately hoed them up and

left the pig-weed. This mistake grieved him very much for ten minutes,

then he forgot all about it, and sowed a handful of bright buttons which

he had collected, evidently thinking in his feeble mind that they

were money, and would come up and multiply, so that he might make many

quarters, as Tommy did. No one disturbed him, and he did what he liked

with his plot, which soon looked as if a series of small earthquakes

had stirred it up. When the general harvest-day came, he would have

had nothing but stones and weeds to show, if kind old Asia had not hung

half-a-dozen oranges on the dead tree he stuck up in the middle. Billy

was delighted with his crop; and no one spoiled his pleasure in the

little miracle which pity wrought for him, by making withered branches

bear strange fruit.

Stuffy had various trials with his melons; for, being impatient to taste

them, he had a solitary revel before they were ripe, and made himself so

ill, that for a day or two it seemed doubtful if he would ever eat

any more. But he pulled through it, and served up his first cantaloupe

without tasting a mouthful himself. They were excellent melons, for he

had a warm slope for them, and they ripened fast. The last and best were

lingering on the vines, and Stuffy had announced that he should sell

them to a neighbor. This disappointed the boys, who had hoped to eat

the melons themselves, and they expressed their displeasure in a new

and striking manner. Going one morning to gaze upon the three fine

watermelons which he had kept for the market, Stuffy was horrified to

find the word “PIG” cut in white letters on the green rind, staring

at him from every one. He was in a great rage, and flew to Mrs. Jo for

redress. She listened, condoled with him, and then said,

“If you want to turn the laugh, I'll tell you how, but you must give up

the melons.”

“Well, I will; for I can't thrash all the boys, but I'd like to give

them something to remember, the mean sneaks,” growled Stuff, still in a

fume.

Now Mrs. Jo was pretty sure who had done the trick, for she had seen

three heads suspiciously near to one another in the sofa-corner the

evening before; and when these heads had nodded with chuckles and

whispers, this experienced woman knew mischief was afoot. A moonlight

night, a rustling in the old cherry-tree near Emil's window, a cut on

Tommy's finger, all helped to confirm her suspicions; and having cooled

Stuffy's wrath a little, she bade him bring his maltreated melons to her

room, and say not a word to any one of what had happened. He did so,

and the three wags were amazed to find their joke so quietly taken. It

spoilt the fun, and the entire disappearance of the melons made them

uneasy. So did Stuffy's good-nature, for he looked more placid and plump

than ever, and surveyed them with an air of calm pity that perplexed

them very much.

At dinner-time they discovered why; for then Stuffy's vengeance fell

upon them, and the laugh was turned against them. When the pudding was

eaten, and the fruit was put on, Mary Ann re-appeared in a high state of

giggle, bearing a large watermelon; Silas followed with another; and

Dan brought up the rear with a third. One was placed before each of the

three guilty lads; and they read on the smooth green skins this addition

to their own work, “With the compliments of the PIG.” Every one else

read it also, and the whole table was in a roar, for the trick had been

whispered about; so every one understood the sequel. Emil, Ned,

and Tommy did not know where to look, and had not a word to say for

themselves; so they wisely joined in the laugh, cut up the melons, and

handed them round, saying, what all the rest agreed to, that Stuffy had

taken a wise and merry way to return good for evil.

Dan had no garden, for he was away or lame the greater part of the

summer; so he had helped Silas wherever he could, chopped wood for Asia,

and taken care of the lawn so well, that Mrs. Jo always had smooth paths

and nicely shaven turf before her door.

When the others got in their crops, he looked sorry that he had so

little to show; but as autumn went on, he bethought himself of a

woodland harvest which no one would dispute with him, and which was

peculiarly his own. Every Saturday he was away alone to the forests,

fields, and hills, and always came back loaded with spoils; for he

seemed to know the meadows where the best flag-root grew, the thicket

where the sassafras was spiciest, the haunts where the squirrels went

for nuts, the white oak whose bark was most valuable, and the little

gold-thread vine that Nursey liked to cure the canker with. All sorts of

splendid red and yellow leaves did Dan bring home for Mrs. Jo to dress

her parlor with, graceful-seeded grasses, clematis tassels, downy, soft,

yellow wax-work berries, and mosses, red-brimmed, white, or emerald

green.

“I need not sigh for the woods now, because Dan brings the woods to me,”

Mrs. Jo used to say, as she glorified the walls with yellow maple boughs

and scarlet woodbine wreaths, or filled her vases with russet ferns,

hemlock sprays full of delicate cones, and hardy autumn flowers; for

Dan's crop suited her well.

The great garret was full of the children's little stores and for a time

was one of the sights of the house. Daisy's flower seeds in neat little

paper bags, all labelled, lay in a drawer of a three-legged table.

Nan's herbs hung in bunches against the wall, filling the air with their

aromatic breath. Tommy had a basket of thistle-down with the tiny seeds

attached, for he meant to plant them next year, if they did not all fly

away before that time. Emil had bunches of pop-corn hanging there to

dry, and Demi laid up acorns and different sorts of grain for the pets.

But Dan's crop made the best show, for fully one half of the floor was

covered with the nuts he brought. All kinds were there, for he ranged

the woods for miles round, climbed the tallest trees, and forced his way

into the thickest hedges for his plunder. Walnuts, chestnuts, hazelnuts,

and beechnuts lay in separate compartments, getting brown, and dry, and

sweet, ready for winter revels.

There was one butternut-tree on the place, and Rob and Teddy called it

theirs. It bore well this year, and the great dingy nuts came dropping

down to hide among the dead leaves, where the busy squirrels found them

better than the lazy Bhaers. Their father had told them (the boys, not

the squirrels) they should have the nuts if they would pick them up, but

no one was to help. It was easy work, and Teddy liked it, only he soon

got tired, and left his little basket half full for another day. But the

other day was slow to arrive, and, meantime, the sly squirrels were hard

at work, scampering up and down the old elm-trees stowing the nuts away

till their holes were full, then all about the crotches of the boughs,

to be removed at their leisure. Their funny little ways amused the boys,

till one day Silas said,

“Hev you sold them nuts to the squirrels?”

“No,” answered Rob, wondering what Silas meant.

“Wal, then, you'd better fly round, or them spry little fellers won't

leave you none.”

“Oh, we can beat them when we begin. There are such lots of nuts we

shall have a plenty.”

“There ain't many more to come down, and they have cleared the ground

pretty well, see if they hain't.”

Robby ran to look, and was alarmed to find how few remained. He called

Teddy, and they worked hard all one afternoon, while the squirrels sat

on the fence and scolded.

“Now, Ted, we must keep watch, and pick up just as fast as they fall, or

we shan't have more than a bushel, and every one will laugh at us if we

don't.”

“The naughty quillies tarn't have 'em. I'll pick fast and run and put

'em in the barn twick,” said Teddy, frowning at little Frisky, who

chattered and whisked his tail indignantly.

That night a high wind blew down hundreds of nuts, and when Mrs. Jo came

to wake her little sons, she said, briskly,

“Come, my laddies, the squirrels are hard at it, and you will have to

work well to-day, or they will have every nut on the ground.”

“No, they won't,” and Robby tumbled up in a great hurry, gobbled his

breakfast, and rushed out to save his property.

Teddy went too, and worked like a little beaver, trotting to and fro

with full and empty baskets. Another bushel was soon put away in the

corn-barn, and they were scrambling among the leaves for more nuts when

the bell rang for school.

“O father! let me stay out and pick. Those horrid squirrels will have

my nuts if you don't. I'll do my lessons by and by,” cried Rob, running

into the school-room, flushed and tousled by the fresh cold wind and his

eager work.

“If you had been up early and done a little every morning there would be

no hurry now. I told you that, Rob, and you never minded. I cannot have

the lessons neglected as the work has been. The squirrels will get more

than their share this year, and they deserve it, for they have worked

best. You may go an hour earlier, but that is all,” and Mr. Bhaer led

Rob to his place where the little man dashed at his books as if bent on

making sure of the precious hour promised him.

It was almost maddening to sit still and see the wind shaking down the

last nuts, and the lively thieves flying about, pausing now and then to

eat one in his face, and flirt their tails, as if they said, saucily,

“We'll have them in spite of you, lazy Rob.” The only thing that

sustained the poor child in this trying moment was the sight of

Teddy working away all alone. It was really splendid the pluck and

perseverance of the little lad. He picked and picked till his back

ached; he trudged to and fro till his small legs were tired; and he

defied wind, weariness, and wicked “quillies,” till his mother left

her work and did the carrying for him, full of admiration for the kind

little fellow who tried to help his brother. When Rob was dismissed, he

found Teddy reposing in the bushel-basket quite used up, but unwilling

to quit the field; for he flapped his hat at the thieves with one grubby

little hand, while he refreshed himself with the big apple held in the

other.

Rob fell to work and the ground was cleared before two o'clock, the nuts

safely in the corn-barn loft, and the weary workers exulted in their

success. But Frisky and his wife were not to be vanquished so easily;

and when Rob went up to look at his nuts a few days later he was amazed

to see how many had vanished. None of the boys could have stolen them,

because the door had been locked; the doves could not have eaten them,

and there were no rats about. There was great lamentation among the

young Bhaers till Dick said,

“I saw Frisky on the roof of the corn-barn, may be he took them.”

“I know he did! I'll have a trap, and kill him dead,” cried Rob,

disgusted with Frisky's grasping nature.

“Perhaps if you watch, you can find out where he puts them, and I may

be able to get them back for you,” said Dan, who was much amused by the

fight between the boys and squirrels.

So Rob watched and saw Mr. and Mrs. Frisky drop from the drooping elm

boughs on to the roof of the corn-barn, dodge in at one of the little

doors, much to the disturbance of the doves, and come out with a nut in

each mouth. So laden they could not get back the way they came, but

ran down the low roof, along the wall, and leaping off at a corner they

vanished a minute and re-appeared without their plunder. Rob ran to the

place, and in a hollow under the leaves he found a heap of the stolen

property hidden away to be carried off to the holes by and by.

“Oh, you little villains! I'll cheat you now, and not leave one,” said

Rob. So he cleared the corner and the corn-barn, and put the contested

nuts in the garret, making sure that no broken window-pane could

anywhere let in the unprincipled squirrels. They seemed to feel that the

contest was over, and retired to their hole, but now and then could not

resist throwing down nut-shells on Rob's head, and scolding violently

as if they could not forgive him nor forget that he had the best of the

battle.

Father and Mother Bhaer's crop was of a different sort, and not so

easily described; but they were satisfied with it, felt that their

summer work had prospered well, and by and by had a harvest that made

them very happy.