Gardening for money

Chapter I. The Coming Of Trouble. — The Beginning Of Hopb

My name is Maria Gilman. I am a widow. These are my two children, — John, fifteen years of age, who is studying to be a gardener, and Mary, twelve years old, who attends the high school at the Centre, where I reside. I own the house in which I live, the furniture, the large greenhouse in the yard, and, in fact, the entire estate, — one hundred and sixty feet by seventy-five, — which I familiarly speak of as my Ten-Rod Farm. I keep a man-servant and a maid-of-all-work. My income is two thousand dollars a year, and I am out of debt. Five years ago I was poor and in great affliction. Now I am independent, though not quite free from sorrow, for the memory of my husband will always remain with me.

•If it would interest you, I will give you a portion of my life history, and explain how it was that I, a comparatively poor ■woman, have made a place for myself in the world and become rich, and all this with my own hands.

Mj parents were in comfortable circumstances, and, like most girls of mj class, I was brought up with little or no knowledge of how to work. I could play and sing as well as most girls. I knew how to sew ; but, beyond this, comparatively nothing. I was married to Mr. Gilman when I was twenty. My parents both died soon after. My new home was always one of ease and comfort, — my husband being foreman of the large mill you see yonder, and in receipt of a liberal income. My life from my youth up was one long happiness, until that dark and sad day when my husband was brought home, on a lovely June morning, mangled and dead, — killed in the mill. From that moment my sorrows began. Let me pass over the terrible days that followed. I do not remember much about them. I seemed lost in a horrid dream, and only awoke to the sad reality when I was forced to attend to the pressing wants of myself and children.

Then I knew the meaning of loneliness and poverty. At first I could not look at my condition. They said something to me about the house being sold.

" Sell my husband's house and home ! Leave this place, leave my home, go away from this garden planted and tended by his hands? No, I will never do it."

"But you must. There is a mortgage on it, and you had better sell out and find a room or two to live in." It was my brother Joseph who had said this. He lives near bj. He is a married man, with a large family, and is far from rich. Doubtless he was right in what he said. I did not know how that was. I was in too much trouble to think of anything then.

" Joseph," I said, " give me time to think. Wait a few days, and I will talk with you again." Going to my room, I sat down to think. Yes, to think ! Thinking was something I had never been called upon to do. It had been my lot simply to enjoy. I looked over the state of affairs, and found these hard facts : the house I occupied was worth two thousand dollars ; part of the purchase money was paid, and five hundred dollars still remained on a mortgage ; there was an insurance of two thousand dollars on my husband's life. And what else ? Nothing. Not a cent of income of any sort. When the bills of the funeral were .paid I found I should have just twenty-five dollars on hand from my husband's wages, and no more. Give up the house I would not, — at least, not until I was obliged to. No ! I would stay where I was, — find something to do and support myself and children as best I could. But then what could I do ? Teach ? No, indeed. All I knew of music when I was a girl had been lost long ago. Take a school ? Could I get one? I imagined not. All the places are spoken for long before they are vacant. What, then, could I do ? Plainly, nothing but sewing. I must support myself by my needle. Thank God, I could do that. Accordingly, the next day, after sending the children to school, I took the train for the citj in search of work. Need I tell you the miserable story ? How I went from shop to shop literally " despised and rejected of men." The second day was as the first — nothing. The third was still more hopeless. The fourth day I found some work, and took it home. After sitting up part of that night, all the next day, and far into the next evening, I finished the work, and carried it to the city, and received for my eighteen hours' labor, only seventy-nine cents. The price was so out of all proportion to the amount of toil, and seemed to me so utterly cruel, that I took the money, found my way to the .cars somehow, and finally reached my home, tired and almost broken-hearted. I was awakened the next morning by confused noises in the street. Wondering what it could mean, I got up and went down stairs. I found the children already up and trying to make a breakfast of bread and water. "What is the matter? " asked I.

"Fourth of July, mother. Didn't you know it? I am going to the pond to fish with the boys." The Fourth of July, and everybody happy and making holiday. All happy but me. And then — more tears. After a while I busied myself about the house until my brother Joseph came in after dinner. He began at once.

" Now, Maria, do listen to reason. Sell this house, invest the money with the insurance, and live on the interest. It will give you about two hundred a year, and you can get on very well with that, if you put Johnny at a trade, and let Mary go into the factory."

"Joseph," I cried, "what do you mean? My Mary in the mill?"

" Well, just as you like, — I can't help you."

After' he had gone, I lay down sick, weary, and utterly dejected.

I had not been in my room long, before Mary came to me and said a young lady wished to see me at the door. Washing away the tear-stains, I went down to the front door, and found Miss Dwight from the grand house over the way.

"Mrs. Gilman, I have a great favor to ask; come into the garden a moment."

Throwing something over my head, I followed her out into my flower-garden. The sun was bright, and the air fragrant with mignonette. The cheerful, balmy warmth revived me, and I felt better. We went into the walk, among the flowers. It was my husband's garden. He was passionately fond of flowers, and had planted and tended them with his own hands. I had not been in the garden since he died, yet the sight did not make me sad ; I was rather pleased than otherwise. He seemed to be nearer to me, and from that moment I began to love the flowers for his sake. Presently Miss Dwight stopped before a brilliant geranium, and, turning to me, said : —

" Mrs. Gilman, we have friends to dinner to-day. We ordered some flowers of the florist, but they have not come, and I wish you to do me the favor of selling some of yours."

" Sell my flowers ! No, indeed ! I will give you all you wish."

" No, I cannot take them so ; I wish to buy them."

" What, sell my husband's flowers? Oh, no ! "

" Now, Mrs. Oilman, please listen a moment. Flowers are a merchantable article. You have them, and I wish to purchase. I am sure your husband would not object, were he alive."

Then I, thought of my poverty, of my search for work, and of the children. That decided me.

" Yes," I said at last, " I will sell you some, but I know nothing of their value."

"But I do. I buy them often, and will give you just what others charge me."

Without more words, she took out a pair of scissors and began snipping off the flowers. At first, I could not bear to see her do it, and walked apart by myself. After a Avhile, I thought better of it, and even helped her fill her basket. When it was full, she turned to me with a smile, and said : —

"I am greatly obliged to you, Mrs. Oilman. These are just what I wanted." And, handing me a bill, she went away.

Re-entering the house, I drew down the curtains, to shut out the sight and sound of the happy people in the village street, and sat down to tliink over my wretched lot. While I turned over in mj mind all the sad details of my situation, I twisted the bit of paper in my hand till I nearly tore it in two. This brought me to myself again, and I mechanically unrolled the bill and looked at it.

"There must be some mistake. What could she have been thinking of? She has paid me too much. It was not possible that those flowers were worth five dollars." And yet, there it was, — a new, clean, five-dollar bill, — more money than I could earn in a week of sewing !

In a moment I had my things on, and fairly flew across the street, and hastily rang the D wights' bell. To the servant who came to the door I handed the bill, saying : —

"Give that to Miss Dwight, if you please, and tell her that Mrs. Gilman thinks there is some mistake."

In a few moments the servant returned, and, giving me the bill again, informed me, with Miss Dwight's compliments, that everything was quite correct.

Turning from their door, I walked slowly home just as the sun was going down. As I entered my gate, a new idea suddenly came to me. Quickening my pace, I ran upstairs to my room. No time for tears now. My opportunity had come. God had not forsaken the widow and fatherless. It only remained for me to improve the opportunity which He had thrown in my path.

Taking a bandbox from the closet, and an old penknife from my husband's bureau, I returned to the garden and began to cut the flowers, — verbenas, geraniums, mignonnette, fuchsias, and roses, by the handful. Filling my box, I carried them into the kitchen, and, procuring all the empty pans I could find, I placed the flowers in water and arranged them on the table. ' ' No, that will not do ; the children will see them." So, one at a time, I carried the pans, now glowing with color, downstairs, and placed them all in the cool, dark cellar. The next morning, I was up very early ; and, after getting the children's breakfast ready for them, gathered all the flowers together from the cellar, put them in the bandbox, got my hat, shawl, and veil, and started for the railroad.

The cars had not arrived when I reached the station ; so I was obliged to wait among a crowd of men and boys and a few girls, all going to their work in the city by the first morning train. Soon the engine appeared, and we started. I felt lonely indeed, and was almost the only woman in the throng. The conductor knew me, but seemed puzzled to see me. "What brings you here at this early hour?" I dare say, he thought.

In due time we ran into the great depot in the city. I had never been in the streets so early in the morning before. Everything seemed strange. Plenty of people were stirring, but they were all of a class which I had seldom met. Only a few stores were open, and before these, boys and men were busily sweeping out and taking down the shutters. I had to pick my way along carefully, for it did seem as if the servants were washing down all the door-steps at once.

Coming out upon Trimountain Avenue, near the park, I began to look about for a flower-stand, or seed store. Soon I came to one, and looked in. There was no one there but a boy with his broom, so I passed on. Presently I came to another. The clean marble floor and handsome showcase, filled with all sorts of garden nicknacks, tempted me in. Seeing a young man behind the counter, I went up to him, and, opening my box, laid it upon the wet marble slab before him.

'' Are those flowers for sale ? " said he.

" Yes, sir."

" What will you take for them ? "

" Anything that is fair. I know nothing of their value^ I trust to you to give me whatever they are worth."

He at once turned the flowers out, and, pushing my box towards me, handed me a bill. Placing the box under my shawl, I went out, and reached the cars in time for the first train home. At my door I met the children. •

"Why, where have you been, mother? We thought you must have run away."

' ' No, no. I have been to town on an errand among the shops."

" What ! shopping at this time of day ? "

" Yes ; but come, eat your breakfast and be off to school,

for I am busy now." 2

Mj pride forced me to say this. It was not strictly true ; yet I had been shopping, — as a seller.

After they had gone to school, I put away my things, and carefully locked up the still fragrant bandbox. I did not wish my children to know what I had done. It was a foolish pride, — that, after a fall or two, was quite cured. Taking my purse from my pocket, I unrolled the bill I received for the flowers. It was a two-dollar bill. To tell the truth, I was a little disappointed. From the sum I had received from Miss Dwight, I expected to get more than two dollars. But then, I remembered that Miss Dwight took them at first-hand, whereas the man bought at wholesale to sell again. However, I put the two dollars with Miss Dwight's five, and, going to market, I piocured enough to supply our table for several days. After bringing my purchases home, I found I had still one dollar left. Quite overjoyed at the new turn affairs had taken, I put on my sun-bonnet and went out, ostensibly to walk in the garden, but really to take an account of stock in my new trade. I went carefully over the whole ground ; counted every plant, and tried to estimate how much money I could cut from my flower-beds. If I could do as well as I had this morning, I might snap my fingers at the sewing-shops, keep my house, and be independent of Joseph and every one else. Soon I was surprised to hear the factory-bell ring for dinner, and directly the children returned from school. Going into the house, I spread a bountiful table, and sat down to dinner with a wonderful appetite. It seemed as if I had never.been so hungry, nor in such good health and spirits before.

The next morning I again made mj appearance before the man in the flower store. This time he did not seem so much pleased with my flowers. He looked at them for a moment, and then carefully picked them over, arranging them in two heaps upon the wet counter.

"I can't take all of these. Those," said he, pointing to one heap, "are not salable. They drop too quick."

To this I could say nothing, so I took up my box and prepared to leave.

But he detained me, and said, "I will pay you for the good ones, but you need not bring those poor sorts any more."

lie then passed me a bill with one hand, and with the other pushed one of the little heaps of flowers from the counter to the floor behind him. Just as they fell over I stole a glance at them, and observed among them some petunias and marigolds.

So, then, I have learned one thing to-day. Petunias and marigolds are not salable. As soon as I reached the train, and was alone in the car, for there were but few people travelling at that hour of the morning, I opened the bill and again found two dollars.

The next day was Sunday. It being a day of rest, I could not gather my flowers at evening, and the next morn-

16 MY TEN-KOD FARM ;

ing I was obliged to get up quite early, in order to cut them in time for the early traiu. By working very hard and fast I managed to get a box full, carefully omitting the petunias and marigolds.

When I opened my box on the counter, in the flower store, I found many of my flowers had wilted. Quite mortified at the wretched appearance they presented, I laid them before the man, expecting he would condemn the whole of them this time.

As soon as he saw them he took up a watering-pot, and fairly deluged them with water.

"You cut them in the sunlight," said he. "If you wish to have them fresh, you must cut them the evening before." Much wondering at this, I took my money and went home. This time I found I only had a dollar and a half So much for not knowing that flowers must not be cut in the morning. However, the experience was well worth the cost. After breakfast, I took out my sewing and sat down to think over my new business. If I could go out in my garden every day, and in a few moments cut enough floAvers to support me through that day, I should be well off; for all the remainder of the day I could be busy about something else. But could I do this ? Would not the garden require some attention ? I would go out and see. Suiting the action to the word, I put on my sun-bonnet, and started out to inspect. The first things I noticed were the weeds. Yes, weeds, plenty of them. Surely this will not do. I can't have flowers and weeds too. Ignorant as I was, I knew enough for that. Selecting a corner where I could not be seen from the street, I set to work pulling them up by hand. Pretty hard work I soon found it, and it did seem as if the sun was very powerful that day. After weeding a while, I had to give it up and rest. Walking about to get rid of the back-ache, I came to a large bed of petunias. What a pity there are so many of them, and yet no income from them ! So mercenary had I become, weighing floAvers by their money value only ! Soon I went back to my weeding. Now this is all very well, but it is terrible hard work. Why did I not think of it before ? Get a hoe. Going to the tool-room I found one, and returned to my work. Now, this is something like. I can get on twice as fast. Dear me ! is it twelve already ? Where has the morning gone ? When the children came, we had dinner. Dear me ! again, how hungry I am. I never had such an appetite ! After dinner, I went at it again. After a while, I found my hoe so heavy that I sat down on a stone seat near a bed of marigolds. They were very weedy. What a pity to spend labor on them for nothing ! I wish they had never been planted. About six, I got my box and began to cut again for the next day's sale. Somehow the flowers did not seem as plenty as on the day before. All I could get for them, the next day, was a dollar and seventy-five cents. The day after, I again tried the

weeding. I was very tired at night, but it was vastly pleas- 2* anter work than sewing, and already I felt the good effecta of my out-door life. That evening I experienced still more difficulty in filling my box.

"You cut too often," said the man in the store, the next day. "If you cut every other day; you will allow them time to recover, and get just as much money. You did not bring my mignonnette this morning."

" No ; my bed is small, and I cut it quite close."

" You should plant another; it will come in late for fall flowers."

"Where can I get seed ? " said I.

" Oh, we have it. Johnny, bring the lady an ounce of mimonnette."

The boy brought the seed and placed it in my box; not quite knowing what to do, I hesitated about taking it.

" I have not any room to plant more," said I.

" Make room. Pull up something else."

Taking my money, and paying the lad twenty cents for the seed, I went home.

After the children had gone to school, I went into the garden to make my first horticultural venture. Now what shall I remove in order to gain room? Oh, the petunias. Not without a pang to think I was tearing up my husband's pets, I ruthlessly rooted them all out and threw them on the jDath. What a deal of trouble I might have saved myself, if I could have pulled up the weeds at the same time ! Raking the ground smooth, I got ready to plant. Well, how is it done? I never planted a seed in my life. " Directions for planting." How nice ! Full directions on the package. " Sow thinly on the surface, and rake it in." And I did, and afterwards contemplated my newmade bed with considerable satisfaction. It was not a large bed. About twenty feet by three.

"Law sakes ! do look at Miss Gilman."

Turning round, to see where the voice that suddenly broke on my ear came from, I beheld the ruddy face of my next neighbor, surmounted by a "coal-scuttle" bonnet, peering over the fence at me.

" Good-morning, Mrs. Jacques. Fine day, is it not?"

" Day's fine enough, but what on airth are you doing ? "

"Me? Oh, I am putting my garden to rights."

" I should say you was. Look at all them petunias lying there ! I should say you was putting them to wrongs."

Finding myself caught, I replied that "I never did think much of petunias. I preferred mignonnette."

"What, planting more, with all that bed full now. Well, I never ! "

Upon which she put up her linen-gloved hands and disappeared.

" I shall not hear the last of that, I know," and, gathering up the remains of the petunias, I went into the house.

Soon after dinner, I finished the weeding, and, as there did not seem' to be anything more to do that day, I improved the time in some other way. As I intended to take the young man's advice, and not cut till the next day, I had a nice long evening at my sewing.

The following morning I again inspected my garden, and found the flowers were coming out grandly. All the summer roses seemed to be doing their best, and verbenas, fuchsias, and lilies, all exhibited a cheerful show of flowers, ready to be turned into money for myself and little ones. I fairly laughed to see them. Perhaps if I had known how much labor and trouble they would give me before the summer was over I should not have been so cheerful ; yet with all the labor came a sure reward. I cut an extra large lot that evening. I even called the children to help me, telling them I wished to send the flowers away.

I received two dollars and a half for this lot of flowers.

Again I omitted to cut the next day, and, on Saturday, took in a fine lot of flowers, as I thought. I found, however, that my ignorance again caused me a loss. All I received was one dollar and a half. Verbenas were not permanent enough. They could not be used for fine work. Only choice flowers were of any value in the summer. I must bring only nice green, buds, heliotrope, and choice stufi". Glad that my ignorance had not cost me more, I !went home to the children, quite resolved on my future course. I had now found out one fact for certain. Flowers could be sold readily. Could I grow enough of them to support myself ? That was a question I could not answer. But I could try. It would not cost much for the present, at least, and so far everything seemed encouraging. Yes, I would try. I would set up for a gardener. Why not? Could not I become a florist as well as a man ? It was worth trying. It being Saturday, the children were both at home. After breakfast I called them to me and told them what I had been doing, and of my plans for the future. They did not quite understand it all, but were greatly pleased with the idea of working in the garden, and gathering the flowers.

"I can cut the roses with the scissors Aunt Charlotte gave me. Mayn't I, mother? "

" And I can rake the walks, and pull up the weeds, just as father used to do."

'* Oh, you can't rake,- Johnny. You aint big enough."

"Yes, lam.' Mother knows I can."

"Yes, dears, you shall both help mother, and we shall get on famously together."

So this is the way in which I took my children into partnership, and began life as a florist. That night I made a small blank-book out of a sheet of foolscap and entered therein an account of the week's receipts and expenditures. It stood somewhat in this wise : —

July 14.

leceivedfor flowers.

Paid.

From last week, 9 GO

For fares, .40

Kec'd this week, 7 50

16 50

Paid, 1 40

$140

Fifteen dollars and ten cents so far, and little or no trouble as jet. It would be foolish to expect this all the time. Flowers could not be raised for nothing, or without labor. How much labor it did cost, and how much was left afterwards, must be told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER 11.

NEW FRIENDS AND NEW FLOWERS.

The next day opened fine and warm. In the morning we went to church. My husband had fortunately paid for pew-rent in advance; so I resolved to occupy it as long as I could. I did not intend to take a back seat until obliged to. In the afternoon the heat was so oppressive that I stayed at home and read aloud to the children. In the midst of our reading I heard a low rumble as of distant thunder. Not thinking anything about it I continued reading. Again the thunder pealed, and louder than before. A shower was evidently approaching. Then I remembered the garden, and wondered what effect the rain would have upon my flowers. I must go out and have a look at it. Calling the children to see the coming storm, we Went out to the yard. On going outside the front gate, I looked up the village street and saw dark masses of clouds piling up the northwestern sky. Calling their attention to the sight, I tried to explain to them that, threatening and terrible as it seemed, yet the rain would wash away the dust and revive the grass and the flowers.

"Yes, mother," said Johnny; "but won't it spoil all your flowers ? "

"Why, yes. That is a bright idea, Johnny ! Now what shall we do ? If we leave them where they are, we shall not have very nice-looking flowers to take to the store in the morning." Just then the village clock struck three. But it is Sunday. We should not work on Sunday. But we must. It cannot be helped. It is a work of necessity.

Getting my old box, I set the children at it, bidding them be careful and not injure the beds, and yet work as fast as they could. Hastily filling the box, I carried it to the house, emptied the flowers out upon the kitchen table, and returned for more. Suddenly I was startled by a loud clap of thunder, and by the noise of persons hurrying past our gate. Oh, here is the rain — and the people ! I don't know which I dread most. Calling the children away, I seized the box and darted into the house. Just then the rain came down in torrents, and the sidewalk was filled with friends and neighbors hurrying home.

" Well, that was a lucky escape ! "

But perhaps it was a foolish pride. I had no need to fear the opinion of the neighbors. What I had done was a work of positive necessity, and must be done even though it was Sunday.