g flower garden at home."

"Huh!" grunted Marty. "Flowers are only a nuisance."

"I s'pose you could weed some," sighed Aunt 'Mira. "It hurts me so to
stoop."

"She'd better pick 'tater bugs," said Marty, grinning. "They've begun
to come, I reckon. Hard-shells, anyway."

Janice could not resist shivering at this suggestion. She did not love
insects any better than do most girls. But she took Marty's suggestion
in good part.

"You wait," she said. "Maybe I can do that, too. I'll weed a little,
anyway. Have you a large farm, Uncle Jason?"

"It's big enough, Janice," grumbled Jason. "Does seem as though--most
years--it's too big for us to manage. If Marty, here, warn't so
triflin'----"

"I don't see no medals on _you_ for workin' hard," whispered the boy,
loud enough for Janice to hear.

"This was a right good farm, onc't," said Aunt 'Mira. "B'fore Jason
got his mis'ry we use ter have good crops. That's when we was fust
married."

"But that's what broke my health all down," interposed Uncle Jason.
"Don't pay a man to work so hard when he's young. He has ter suffer
for it in the end."

"Huh!" grunted Marty. "If it wasn't good for _you_ to work so hard
when you was young, what about _me_?"

"You git along out o' here an' start on them 'taters!" commanded Mr.
Day, angrily.

Marty slid out, muttering under his breath. Janice jumped up from the
table, saying cheerfully:

"I'll help you with the dishes, Aunty. Let's clear off."

Her uncle had risen and was feeling for his corncob pipe on the ledge
above the door. Mrs. Day looked a bit startled when she saw Janice
begin briskly to collect the soiled dishes.

"I dunno, Janice," she hesitated. "I gin'rally feel right po'ly after
dinner, and I'm use ter takin' forty winks."

Janice did not wonder that her aunt felt "right po'ly." She had eaten
more pork, potatoes, spring cabbage and fresh bread than would have
served a hearty man.

"Let's get rid of the dishes first, Aunty," said Janice, cheerfully.
"You can get your nap afterward."

"Wa-al," agreed Mrs. Day, slowly rising. "I dunno's there's water
enough to more'n give 'em a lick and a promise. Marty? Oh, you Marty!
Come, go for a pail of water, will ye? That's a good boy."

"Now, ye know well enough," snarled Jason's voice just outside the
door, "that that boy ain't in earshot now."

"Oh, _I_ can get a pail of water from the pump, Aunty," said Janice,
briskly starting for the por