Johnny's. If Willy and Johnny
were allowed to sell their crops they'd be willing to pay out of the
profit for the seed they use and they'd take a lot of interest in it.
The housekeeper would buy all they'd raise, and they'd feel that their
gardens were self-supporting. Now they feel that the seed is given to
them out of charity, and that it's a stingy sort of charity after all
because they are forced to pay for the seed by giving up their
vegetables whether they want to or not."

"Do they enjoy working the gardens?"

"I should say not! James and I said the other day that they were the
most forlorn looking gardeners we ever laid our eyes on."

"Don't they grow any flowers at all?"

"Just a few in a border around the edge of their vegetable gardens and
some in front of the main building where they'll be seen from the
street."

The girls looked at each other and wrinkled their noses.

"Let's send some there every week and have the children understand that
young people raised them and thought it was fun to do it."

"And can't you ask to have the flowers put in the dining-room and the
room where the children are in the evening and not in the reception room
where only guests will see them?"

"I will," promised Margaret. "James and I have a scheme to try to have
the children work their gardens on the same plan that the children do
here," she went on. "We're going to get Father to put it before the
Board of Management, if we can."

"I do hope he will. The kiddies here are so wild over their gardens that
it's proof to any one that it's a good plan."

"Oo-hoo," came Roger's call across the field.

"Oo-hoo. Come up," went back the answer.

"What are you girls talking about?" inquired the young man, arranging
himself comfortably with his back against a rock and accepting a paper
tumbler of lemonade and some cheese straws.

Helen explained their plan for disposing of the extra flowers from their
gardens.

"It's Service Club work; we ought to have started it earlier," she
ended.

"The Ethels did begin it some time ago; I caught them at it," he
accused, shaking his finger at his sister and cousin.

"I told the girls we had been taking flowers to the Old Ladies' Home,"
confessed Ethel Brown.

"O, you have! I didn't know that! I did find out that you were supplying
the Atwoods down by the bridge with sweetpeas."

"There have been such oodles," protested Ethel Blue.

"Of course. It was the right thing to do."