The Thrift twins

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I A Birthday Gift i

II Gardening ii

Chapter I

WONDER what we’re going to get for our birthday!” said Betty Thrift to her brother Tom as they sat down to breakfast on a bright morning in April.

don’t know,” answered Tom, “but Father and Mother always give us something we had never thought of, so I suspect we’ll be surprised.”

Mr. and Mrs. Thrift exchanged a smile.

“Maybe we’ll surprise you some time by giving you nothing at all,” began Mr. Thrift, “because children who are born on April first ought to expect to be fooled.”

^‘Didn’t you think it was a great April Fool joke when we were born?” asked Tom.

‘‘Well,” admitted Mr. Thrift, “there have been times when you were both bad at once, when that idea has come into my mind, but in general it was the kind of joke that turns out well for all concerned.”

“I’m through now with my breakfast,” remarked Betty as she pushed back her chair.

“You haven’t eaten nearly enough, Betty,” objected her mother. “You will be hungry before lunch-time. You can not have your present until you eat some more oatmeal.”

‘ ‘ Oatmeal, ’ ’ sighed Betty. ‘ ‘ Oatmeal ! when I’m thinking about what I’m going to get! Mother, if I was going to die, or get married, or anything, you’d make me eat another spoonful of oatmeal first!”

Mr. Thrift laughed. “You’ll need it this time, Betty,’’ he said. ‘‘Eat it, as Mother says, and then I’ll take you and Tom out into the wood-shed ”

‘ ‘ W ood-shed ! ’ ’ exclaimed Tom. ‘ ‘ What ’s that for?”

“Isn’t it your birthday?” laughed Mr. Thrift.

A few minutes later they all rose from the table and went into the wood-shed, Tom and Betty holding hands and feeling very excited and curious. Mrs. Thrift picked up a covered basket as they passed through the kitchen, and Tom and Betty exchanged a questioning glance.

“What’s that for?” whispered Betty.

Tom shook his head. “I’m no good at guessing,” he said.

When they came to the wood-shed door, which was closed, they heard an odd scratching and thumping, and a low whine.

Tom’s eyes glistened. “Sounds like a dog!” he cried excitedly.

'‘Maybe he’s cross and will bite!” and Betty drew back a little.

"If that isn’t like a girl!” exclaimed Tom, taking tighter hold of her hand. "Hurry up, Father!”

Mr. Thrift opened the door and they went in. The first thing they saw was a beautiful collie, his eyes eagerly fixed upon them.

"Oh, what a nice old fellow!” cried Tom, throwing himself forward to pat the rough head of the dog.

Betty hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she, too, dropped down on the sawdust, and put both arms around the dog’s neck.

"Wait a bit, children,” said Mrs. Thrift, opening her basket. "He’s hungry. I’ve been saving some bones for him. Let him eat some breakfast, and then you can play with him. Poor fellow! he’s homesick yet. Father brought him late last night after you two were in bed.”

The children stood aside and watched with interest while the dog ate.

‘‘He doesn’t have to eat oatmeal!” said Betty, enviously.

“What’s his name, Father?” asked Tom.

“He hasn’t any, yet,” replied Mr. Thrift. “I got him over at Dean’s. They hadn’t taken the trouble to name him. He belongs to you and Betty now, and you had better name him at once. Then call him by his name when you feed him and he ^11 soon learn it.”

Betty drew a long breath. “Let’s call him some perfectly beautiful name,” she suggested, “like oh. Daffodil — or something like that!”

Tom laughed. “That’s no name for a dog! Only a girl’d think of naming a dog after a flower!”

“Well, what do you want to call him?” asked Betty. “I suppose you want to call him Fido, or or ”

^‘Fido! for a nice big dog like this! I guess not! That’s a name for a little silky dog, isn’t it, Mother?”

Mrs. Thrift laughed. ‘‘I don’t know,” she said, ‘‘but if you don’t like that kind of a name, think of one that will describe him in some way.”

“What would you call him. Father?” asked Betty.

Mr. Thrift shook his head. “He’s your dog, children; nobody helped Mother and me name you two. I got you the dog, that’s enough. Pick out a name to suit you both, though!”

“Maybe we’d better give him a middle name, then!” suggested Betty, “because Tom and I don’t always agree on names!”

“Oh, I forgot!” exclaimed Mrs. Thrift, suddenly. “Your dog will need a collar, and I made him one. After you’ve chosen a name for him you can print it on the collar.”

She went into the house and brought out a collar of tan-colored leather, with a buckle.

‘‘It’s pretty,” said Tom, handling it curiously, “but I don’t believe I know how to put the name on!”

Mr. Thrift showed him a little brush and some black paint.

“Print the letters first, and then paint them. Mother and I thought you children would like to finish the collar yourselves!”

Tom’s eyes shone as he turned to Betty: “You can name him, Betty, then I’ll put the name on the collar!”

“That’s a good idea, Tom!” said Mr. Thrift.

Betty clapped her hands. “Tom, you’re a — well, you’re — a — favorite brother of mine!” and she began spinning dizzily around the wood-shed.

“Sit down, Betty!” he exclaimed presently. ‘‘Sit down somewhere and think of a name, so I can get this collar done. Then we can take our dog out for a walk. He’s nearly through with his breakfast.”

“That’s a good plan,” said Mr. Thrift, “for he’s tired from being tied up so long. Now from this time on he belongs to you children. See to it that he gets his food and water regularly and that he gets plenty of exercise.”

“Thank you, Father! and you too. Mother! You’ve given us the best birthday yet ! ’ ’ said Tom. And Betty chimed in with : “I’ll never forget the day when we were twelve ; will you, Tom ? ’ ’

Mr. and Mrs. Thrift went back into the house and Betty sat down on a log to think seriously of a name for the dog. “Let’s see — his eyes are brown, and his paws are

large — ^he’s all rough and shaggy ”

Her eyes lit up suddenly. “Tom!” she called excitedly. “Let’s call him Shagg!

“Now let’s give him a run

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That’s new, and it isn’t a bit like a flower, or a silky dog, either!”

Tom agreed instantly, and spreading the collar out upon his knee began painstakingly to print the letters.

‘‘How are we going to spell it?” he inquired after a while of Betty, who sat by the dog, patting him, and calling him by his new name.

“Why S-h-a-g-g of course,” replied Betty. ‘ ‘ Just leave off the ‘ y ’ ! ”

Tom bent over his work. “You spell ‘dog’ with only one ‘g’,” he said presently. “I think one is enough for Shag!”

“Well, all right,” said Betty. As she spoke she came and leaned over Tom’s shoulder.

“Why, Tom Thrift!” she giggled. “You’ve made your S wrong way! It turns like this!” and she traced it with her finger.

“Oh, it does not!” said Tom. “I guess I know how to print! That’s just like a girl!

Anyhow,” he added triumphantly, ^‘Shag knows what it means. ” And he fastened the collar about the dog’s neck. ‘‘Now let’s give him a run ! ’ ’ And down through the yard and across the fields went Tom and Betty, Shag barking joyously at their heels.

Chapter II Gakdening

One afternoon, about two weeks after the twins’ birthday, Mr. Thrift came home from town and called to the children to come and help him unload the wagon. Tom, Betty, and Shag came with a joyous whoop and a bark, from somewhere around the barn. Tom climbed upon the wheel and handed down to Betty some long-handled tools which she examined curiously.

‘‘What are these for. Father?” she asked presently.

“They are for you and Tom,” replied Mr. Thrift. “Mother and I have decided to turn the garden over to you and Tom this summer.”

what fun!” cried Betty. ‘‘Look, Tom, here are two spades, two hoes, and two cunning little rakes!”

“Are we to have the whole garden. Father?” asked Tom, his eyes shining.

“Yes, every bit of it. You can sell all you raise beyond what we need for the house, and put the money in the bank. After supper 111 explain the idea to you.”

Tom and Betty divided up the tools and flew to the wood-shed to paint their names on the handles.

“My name is too long,” sighed Betty. “I wonder if just ‘Bet’ wouldn’t do as well? I’ll put a period to show that it’s an abbreviation.”

“Oh, here, Betty! I’U finish yours, you’re getting paint all over you !” and Tom finished the tools and leaned them up against the wall to dry.

When the supper dishes were washed, Mr. Thrift showed the children two new

GAEDENINa 13

bank-books, with their names written on the covers.

‘‘I have given you each five dollars as a nest-egg,” he explained, ^‘and now see how much you can add to that. If you each can earn fifty dollars by Christmas, III double that for you.”

Fifty dollars!” gasped Betty.

‘‘Fifty dollars!” echoed Tom.

“Yes, fifty dollars!” said their father. “You can do it easily, if you will only try.”

Tom and Betty ran with their books to their mother and asked her how to start a garden.

“I want flowers,” began Betty, ‘‘pinks, and poppies, and dahlias, and ”

“I want pop-corn and potatoes,” interrupted Tom, “and maybe a few watermelons and a gourd- vine ”

“If I were you,” said their mother, “I would let Tom take the vegetables that require heavy work, like potatoes, and both of you should have flower-borders around all your beds. They look pretty and don’t take up much space. Besides, maybe you can sell some of them.”

‘‘All right, then,” agreed Tom, “I’ll plant some, but I want big jolly ones like sunflowers.”

“And I’ll take red-faced radishes, because they look like little peony buds ”

“And I’ll plant all the onions because Betty never will — ”

“And I’ll plant beets because Tom doesn’t like them — ”

“I’ll help you draw a plan for your garden,” said Mrs. Thrift; “that is the way to do. Then you are sure to have room for everything.”

The children drew close to their mother and watched her as she divided up the paper which was to represent the garden, into little oblong beds, separated by paths, and

GAEDENING 15

wrote the name of a vegetable on each, with the date when it might be started.

‘‘You can put in lettuce, radishes, and onions to-morrow,” she explained, “but the ground isn’t warm enough yet for flowers.”

Tom and Betty were so excited they could scarcely sleep that night, and early the next morning they were at work. It was great fun spading up the freshly plowed earth, then breaking up the clods with the hoes, and smoothing the bed with the rake. Tom did most of the spading, and Betty did all of the raking. “I’m making up the beds for the babies,” she explained, “and they must be nice and soft!”

Then they began planting. The little brown radish seeds went into shallow furrows which they had made with a yardstick, and were put about three inches apart. The lettuce seed they scattered broadcast. The onions were placed in straight rows, with several inches between.

‘^Now let’s cover them up!” cried Betty, and with their hands they gently smoothed the lettuce and radish beds.

‘H’ve already tucked the onions in!” said Tom. ‘‘They’re strong enough to kick the covers off!”

For the next few days Tom and Betty did little else except run out into the garden to see if something was coming up yet !

“You watch too closely, children,” said Mrs. Thrift. “Don’t you know a watched pot never boils?”

“I never cared much whether a pot boiled or not!” said Betty, “but I get nervous about these radishes. I’m afraid I didn’t plant them right, or something!”

“I saw you put in some of them up side down,” said Tom.

“It looks a little like rain,” said their mother, “and a good shower would bring them up, I’m sure. Lettuce is slower than radishes, and you will have to be patient.

GAEDENING

But if it rains, and then gets warmer, you can plant some tomatoes, and cabbage, and you won’t have to wait for them to come up.”

Anxiously the children watched for a rain, and one afternoon, while they were still in school, a brisk shower came. As soon as they reached home they started eagerly for the garden, but Mrs. Thrift stopped them.

^‘Your paths are still soft, children,” she said, ^‘wait now till morning when it will be drier.’’

Next morning, although they had not planned it, both Tom and Betty started for the garden just as the sun was rising.

^‘Tom,” said Betty solemnly, ‘‘I am going to shut my eyes tight and you lead me up to my radish bed. If those seeds aren’t up yet, you must break it to me gently, or I don’t know what will happen!”

Tom led his sister carefully along the

THE THEIET TWINS path, his own eyes eagerly searching. Suddenly he shouted at the top of his lungs :

‘‘Look! look! Betty! They’re up! they’re up!”

Betty opened her eyes and at once dropped down on her knees in the damp path, and began to count the little “clovers” as she called them.

“See how they reach up their two little hands toward the sunshine!” she cried.

Madly the twins rushed hack to the house, to find their mother just lighting the fire.

“They’re up! they’re up! they’re up!” they shouted, jumping wildly around her.

“I see they are,” said Mrs. Thrift, “both of them! Did you children stay awake all night?”

“Not quite,” confessed Betty, “but I dreamt about the garden!”

“Mother, come out and see them!” begged Tom.

“I’m afraid Father is never going to get

GAEDENING any breakfast this morning/’ said Mrs. Thrift, but she followed the children out into the garden.

^‘They look fine,” she said. ‘‘After the sun has dried the ground a little more, you can very gently soften the earth, being careful not to come too close to their little roots. It is easy to kill them while they are so small.”

“Tom,” said Betty reprovingly, “you said I planted these seeds up side down. What have you to say now?”

“They turned over during the night,” replied Tom. “Just look at my onions! Did you ever see anything so pretty?”

Chapter III Shag Goes To Wokk

Tom and Betty were out in their garden, sitting on the bench which Tom had made out of old boards. It was certainly not much to look at, but it furnished them a good resting-place when they were tired from hoeing or weeding.

Everything was looking fine now; the radishes and onions were big enough to eat, and there were plants of all kinds coming on. Even some of the early flowers were peeping out here and there in the borders.

‘‘Tom, I think we ought to begin selling something!” said Betty. “We will soon have early peas and beans, and there are lots more radishes and onions than we can use.”

SHAG GOES TO WOEK

‘^The trouble is/’ began Tom, every one around here bas a garden. Who would buy of us?”

‘‘We could sell over in Milton,” suggested Betty.

“Yes, but bow can we get there! Father hasn’t time to take us, and he doesn’t want me to drive Firefly!”

Betty sighed, “If we only had wings !”

“Or a pony-cart!”

“Or even a dog-cart!”

“Well, we have a dog ”

“And a little wagon Why, Tom

Thrift! Let’s train Shag to pull our wagon!”

“Betty, you certainly do have some bright ideas, at least for a girl ! Let ’s go ask Father what he thinks about it!”

Mr. Thrift found no reason why Shag should not learn to draw the wagon, and advised them to train him just before mealtime, and then when he got the idea that work was always followed by food, he would be more willing.

That very afternoon Tom and Betty began Shag’s training. Mr. Thrift helped them put shafts on their wagon, and fixed a simple set of harness for the dog.

At first. Shag thought it was all for fun, but when he found that he was really tied fast to a heavy wagon which wanted to go every place he did, he tried to lie down on the shafts. When he found he could not do this, he shook himself until it seemed as if the wagon must fly to pieces; then he sat down and would not stir.

After a great deal of petting and coaxing, the twins got Shag in a good humor again. After he had consented to pull the wagon once clear around the house, they unharnessed him and gave him a big bone with meat on it.

Every afternoon, as soon as Tom and Betty could get home from school, they

SHAG GOBS TO WORK trained Shag, and it was not long until he learned that his harness meant a short period of work, followed by something to eat! He began to like to be hitched up to the wagon. Then the twins began gradually to put loads in the wagon, and Shag soon trotted along as steadily as any old market horse.

Let’s go to Milton next Saturday,” suggested Betty.

‘ H ’m willing, ’ ’ said Tom. ^ H ’d like to put some more money in the bank. We must not lose any more time getting started on that fifty dollars!”

The next Saturday morning the twins cut several basketfuls of fresh vegetables — the peas and beans were now ready — and started to Milton. Shag behaved splendidly. Not once did he try to lie down, or to shake himself.

As they came into the outskirts of Milton Betty looked around and suggested : ‘ ‘ Let ’s go to houses where there ’re lots of children, Tom. Children are always hungry!”

So they started down a noisy street where there were children playing ever5rwhere. Sure enough, they sold something at almost every house. It was not long until everything was gone except three bunches of onions.

‘‘We’d better start back home now,” said Tom. “Mother said we should bring back whatever we couldn’t sell.”

“Oh, I want to sell it all this first trip!” cried Betty. “I’m going to try this big fine place. See! There’s a man out there on the porch and I’m going to ask him!” Before Tom could say a word she seized the onions and sped up the path.

The man turned, rather crossly, and for a moment Betty’s heart failed her. Then she smiled up in his face and asked : ‘ ‘ Don ’t you want some nice fresh onions ? Tom and I raised them in our garden.”

SHAG GOES TO WORK 25

Where is your garden?’’ snapped the man. ‘‘Who are you, anyway?”

“We are Tom and Betty Thrift, and we live out on the South River Road.”

“Oh, I see! You must be Tom Thrift’s children?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He deals at my bank. I know him well ! So you have a garden!”

“Yes, sir, and a bank-account!”

The man laughed suddenly. “Good! I’ll take your onions, and you may stop here every time you come to town. I’ll tell my housekeeper to buy from you. I’m glad to see that you know how to work and to save ! Most people don’t!”

Betty thanked him and ran back to join Tom. They hurried now for it was almost supper-time. Shag fairly flew, for he knew he had been a very good dog, and he was expecting something nice for supper.

Before the twins sat down at the table they gave Shag a big plate full of chicken bones that they had been saving for several days. They wanted him to like his trips to town I Then they began to tell all that had happened on their trip, and Betty wound up the long story with an account of the man who had bought the last of their wagonload. ‘‘He said he knew you, Father. He has a bank, and he lives in a big brick house ”

“Mr. Holgrove?” demanded their father, in surprise. “Did you sell him anything?”

“Yes, and he said to come back there every time we came to town!”

“Well, well, well!”

As the twins left the table they overheard a bit of conversation between their father and mother.

“To think of Betty asking that old miser Holgrove to buy a bunch of onions!” laughed Mr. Thrift.

“Every one has a soft spot in his heart

SHAG GOES TO WORK where children are concerned, didn’t you know that, Tom?” said Mrs. Thrift. ‘‘A little child can sell anything.”

‘‘I wonder what they meant by that?” asked Betty curiously, of Tom. ‘‘Father seemed to think that it was strange that Mr. Holgrove bought of us. Why, I like him, and I wasn’t a bit afraid to ask him to buy those onions. I believe he’s fond of them!”

“Maybe Mr. Holgrove thinks we’ll own his bank some day !” was Tom’s explanation.

Chapter IV A Homesick Toad

Betty and Tom were picking off tke cucumber beetles which were destroying their young plants. They were having quite a time, for the beetles flew away, and then came back again. Suddenly a voice came to them, out of the air, as it seemed.

‘^Do you children know that a toad is worth five dollars to a gardener?”

The twins looked up in surprise, and saw old Mr. Hawkins leaning over the fence, watching them.

‘‘No, sir, we didn’t,” said Tom, rising hastily and taking off his hat.

“Well, it’s so,” said the old man. “Where’s your father, Tom?”

A HOMESICK TOAD 29

‘‘He’s down in the orchard, Mr. Hawkins.” And Tom pointed out the way.

When the old man had passed by the garden, the children went back to their cucumbers.

“Is that true what Mr. Hawkins said about toads?” asked Betty.

“I never heard it before, but it must be true, or Mr. Hawkins wouldn’t have said it,” answered Tom.

“Then we must get a toad,” decided Betty. ‘ ‘ I wonder where we can find one ? ’ ’

“I saw one yesterday down in the barnyard under that old pile of rails,” said Tom.

“Let’s go get it,” cried Betty, brushing the dust from her dress and putting on her sunbonnet. “What’ll we fetch it in? I don’t want to carry it in my hands! I’m not exactly afraid of them, but I don’t exactly like them!”

“I’ll get an old tin can to carry him in,”

said Tom, ^^and I’ll do the handling of Mr. Toad, all by myself I”

Hand-in-hand they went down into the barn-lot and Tom carefully lifted the rails. There, sure enough, blinking at the sunlight, sat a fat, brown toad.

‘‘He looks like he was mashed!” exclaimed Betty, drawing back.

“Oh, he’s all right. Toads always look like that. Hold the can, Betty, and I’ll soon have him!”

But when Tom reached down to get the toad, his fingers closed upon a clod of brown earth, for the toad had hopped under another rail.

“Oh, dear!” cried Betty, but Tom was already lifting the rail. There was Mr. Toad, flatter than ever, blinking as before.

“Now, Tom!” called Betty, anxiously, and Tom made a quick dive for the toad, and had him in his hand, but finding him unexpectedly cold, let him drop again.

A HOMESICK TOAD

^‘He’s like ice!’’ he cried in surprise.

‘‘He’s scared, poor toad!” said Betty. “It’s a pity to frighten him so, hut if he’s really worth five dollars to our garden, we simply must have him!”

After quite a long time, Tom finally got the toad into the can, and they started back to the garden.

“Where shall we put him?” asked Tom.

“Over here under these rhubarb leaves where it is nice and cool. Wait! I’ll fix a place for him to sit.” And Betty broke off a large leaf and spread it out on the ground.

Tom put the toad on it.

“Now let’s get him some flies,” said Betty. “We must keep him satisfied and contented here.” And she flew off to the sunny screen-door of the kitchen porch, where, as Tom put it, “there was always a fly or so, waiting for the next train.” With some trouble she caught a large blue-bottle^ and keeping him carefully inside her closed fingers, she brought her hand up close to the toad and let the fly go.

The toad seemed to make no motion, but the fly disappeared.

‘‘However did he do that?” asked Betty. “Go get him another one, Tom!”

So the twins took turns in watching the toad, and in bringing him flies. At last, though, the toad ceased to pay any attention to them, but sat with his eyes closed.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Betty anxiously.

“I think he’s full,” said Tom. “I acted just like that last Sunday, after dinner.”

“Maybe he’s homesick,” suggested Betty.

“Well, I don’t care if he is,” declared Tom. “I don’t intend to work this hard every day to keep him contented!”

Just then the twins heard footsteps, and looking up they saw Mr. Hawkins passing by the garden, on his way home.

A HOMESICK TOAD 33

‘^Mr. Hawkins!’^ called out Tom. ^^How does a toad bring a gardener five dollars?”

<< Why, I saw you two were having trouble with cucumber beetles. A toad would help you. They come out at night and eat quantities of insects and bugs.”

Don’t you have to feed them, or anything?” asked Tom.

Mr. Hawkins laughed. ‘‘Oh, dear, no! They’ll feed themselves; that’s why they’re a good thing in a garden.”

When Mr. Hawkins had passed on, Tom and Betty went back to the toad. He had hopped into the shadow, and was flatter and stupider than ever.

“And to think how we’ve fed him!” sighed Betty.

“He’ll not bring us more than four dollars and ninety-five cents now,” said Tom. “He looks as if he wouldn’t get hungry again for at least a week ! ”

Chapter V A New Way To Eakn Money

The first day that Tom and Betty, clasping tightly their new bank-books, walked into the Farmers’ Bank, they looked around hoping to see Mr. Holgrove, but unfortunately he was not in just then. There were so many windows with men standing behind them that it seemed very confusing.

‘‘I wonder where we go*?” whispered Betty. wish Father had come along!”

‘‘I’ll find out,” said Tom, and he stepped up to a window which said: “Paying.”

“Is this where we deposit money on our savings account?” he asked, taking off his hat.

The man at the window smiled pleasantly 34

A NEW WAY TO EAEN MONEY 35 and said, ‘^No, take it to the window over there, marked ‘Eeceiving.’ ”

Tom and Betty went to the window which was pointed out to them, and handed in their books and a pile of dimes and nickels, u There’s two dollars and ten cents apiece!” Tom explained.

The clerk smiled, counted the money, put some figures in each of their books, and handed them back.

Tom and Betty thanked him, and seeing a bench near, sat down to look at their books.

‘‘Doesn’t that look fine?” exclaimed Betty. “Just think! I have only forty-two dollars and ninety cents to get in before Christmas!”

“Do you remember that story, Betty, about a girl that counted her chickens before they were hatched?”

“Yes,” admitted Betty, “but I haven’t a basket of eggs on my head, have I?”

As the twins rose to go Mr. Holgrove came into the bank. He stopped when he saw the children and asked to see their books. ‘‘That’s fine! that’s fine!” he said, and then added after a moment: “How does it happen that you each have the same amount?”

The twins looked surprised. “Why, we always divide evenly,” Tom said. “I wouldnU feel right unless Betty had the same.”

“And I wouldn’t take any pay at all if I couldn’t give Tom half!” cried Betty.

“Do you ever earn any money cutting lawns?” asked Mr. Holgrove. “Mine needs cutting badly and the man who has been doing it tramples my flowers and does such poor work that I have dismissed him. Do you think you could do it for a dollar?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Tom eagerly. “But we’d have to go home first and ask Father.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Mr. Hoi-

A NEW WAY TO EARN MONEY 37 grove. car is outside. I’ll take you

out to your home, you can ask your father, then I’ll bring you back again. You know how to do it, don’t you?”

^‘Yes, sir, Betty and I cut the grass at home. I run the lawn-mower, and she trims around the paths and flower-beds.”

‘‘Very well, then, come out here and tumble into the car!”

“But what will we do with Shag?”

“Who’s he?”

“Our dog.”

“We’ll put him and the wagon both into the car. Bogs love to ride in automobiles!”