rden, where the white head of Old
Aaron was bending over his hoeing.

"He's hoeing the potatoes," Granny explained. "He don't see you. But
he'll soon be done and come in."

"What were you doin'?" asked the child.

"Weeding the flag."

"Weedin' the flag--what do you mean?" Phoebe's eyes lighted with
eagerness. "I guess you mean mendin' the flag, Granny." She looked
toward the porch as if in search of Old Glory.

"I said weeding the flag," the woman insisted. "It's an idea of Aaron's
and I guess I'll tell you about it, seeing your eyes are open so wide.
See the poppies, that long stretch of them in the middle of the garden?"

"Um-uh," nodded Phoebe.

"Well, that patch at the back is all red poppies, the buds just coming
on them nice and big. Then right in front of them is another patch of
white poppies; the buds are thick on them, too. And right in front of
them--you see what's there!"

"Larkspur, blue larkspur!" cried Phoebe. "Oh, I see--it's red, white and
blue! You'll have it all summer in your garden!"

"Yes. When it blooms it'll be a grand sight. I said to Aaron that we'll
have all the children of Greenwald in looking at his flag and he said he
hopes so, for they couldn't look at anything better than the colors of
Old Glory. Aaron's crazy about the flag."

"'Cause he fought for it, mebbe."

"Yes, I guess. His father died for it at Gettysburg, the same place
where Aaron lost his leg. . . . The only thing is, the larkspur's
getting ahead of the poppies--seems like the larkspur couldn't
wait"--her voice continued low--"I always love to see the larkspur
come."

"I too," said the child. "I like to pull out the little slippers from
the middle of the flowers and fit 'em into each other and make circles
with 'em. I made a lot last summer and pressed 'em in a book, but Aunt
Maria made me stop."

"That's just what Nason used to do. I have some pressed in the big Bible
yet that he made when he was a little boy." She spoke half-absently, as
though momentarily forgetful of the child's presence.

"Who's Nason?" asked Phoebe.

Granny started. "I-to-goodness, Phoebe, I forgot! You don't know him,
never heard of him, I guess. He's our boy. We had a little girl, too,
but she died."

"Did the boy die too, Granny?"

"No, ach no! You wouldn't understand. He's living in the city. He writes
to me often but he don't come home. He and his pop fell out about the
flag once when Nason was young and foolish and they're bot