oft and fine,
so the little radish plants could grow.

All the time he was doing it, he was thinking, "How fine it will be to
have lots of good radishes for the table!"

Bobby had a little corner all his own in Father's big garden. He sowed
some onion seed in his garden. When the little plants came up, he weeded
them and hoed them and kept the ground soft and fine, so they could
grow.

All the time he was doing it, he was thinking, "How nice it will be to
have all these onions, so I can give them to Mother for the cooking!"

One day, while the family were all away, the Old Brown Hen, who had
stolen her nest, came along with her thirteen chickens.

She was hunting for a good place to scratch and find something for them
to eat.

First, she tried to scratch in the gravel driveway, but that was too
hard.

Next, she tried to scratch by the wood-pile, but the ground was covered
with little chips, so she could not scratch there.

Then she found Mother's pansy bed. The ground in it was so soft that it
was beautiful for scratching.

So she called, "Cluck, cluck, cluck!" and her thirteen chicks came
running, and she scratched all over the pansy bed, to find bugs and
worms for them to eat.

And all the little pansy plants were scratched up.

Next, she went over to the big garden and found Father's radish bed. The
ground in it was so soft that it was a fine place for scratching.

So she called, "Cluck, cluck, cluck!" and her thirteen chicks came
running, and she scratched all over the radish bed, to find something
for them to eat.

And all the little radish plants were scratched up.

One would think that the Old Brown Hen would not have needed to scratch
any more. But it takes a great deal to feed thirteen hungry, growing
chicks.

So she kept hunting for other places to scratch; and it was not long
before she found Bobby's onion bed.

Now Bobby had hoed in it and dug in it so much just the day before,
that it was _very_ soft and just beau-ti-ful for scratching.

"What good luck!" thought the Old Brown Hen. "A finer place for
scratching I never saw."

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!" she called; and her thirteen chicks came running,
and she scratched all over the onion bed, to find something for them to
eat.

And all the little onion plants were scratched up.

Then, because they had eaten all they wanted, she wallowed in the soft
earth until she had made a nice, comfortable place to sit.

There she sat, in the mid