"I suppose we may all have a chance at all of these institutions?"
demanded James.
"Your mother may have something to say about your attentions to your own
garden," suggested Helen pointedly.
"I won't slight it, but I've really got to have a finger in this pie if
all of you are going to work at it!"
"Well, you shall. Calm yourself," and Roger patted him with a soothing
hand. "You may do all the digging I promised the girls I'd do."
A howl of laughter at James's expense made the attic ring.
James appeared quite undisturbed.
"I'm ready to do my share," he insisted placidly. "Why don't we make
plans of the gardens now?"
"Methodical old James always has a good idea," commended Tom. "Is there
any brown paper around these precincts, Dorothy?"
"Must it be brown?"
"Any color, but big sheets."
"I see. There is plenty," and she spread it on the table where James had
done so much pasting when they were making boxes in which to pack their
presents for the war orphans.
"Now, then, Roger, the first thing for us to do is to see--"
"With our mind's eye, Horatio?"
"--how these gardens are going to look. Take your pencil in hand and
draw us a sketch of your backyard as it is now, old man."
"That's easy," commented Roger. "Here are the kitchen steps; and here is
the drying green, and back of that is the vegetable garden and around it
flower beds and more over here next the fence.
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