The class stopped in the middle of 7 times 9, and everyone looked
up to see what was going on.

Thinking that a lesson in learning to help one another was better
than arithmetic just then, Mr. Bhaer told them about Nat, making
such an interesting and touching little story out of it that the
good-hearted lads all promised to lend him a hand, and felt quite
honored to be called upon to impart their stores of wisdom to the
chap who fiddled so capitally. This appeal established the right
feeling among them, and Nat had few hindrances to struggle
against, for every one was glad to give him a "boost" up the ladder
of learning.

Till he was stronger, much study was not good for him, however,
and Mrs. Jo found various amusements in the house for him while
others were at their books. But his garden was his best medicine,
and he worked away like a beaver, preparing his little farm,
sowing his beans, watching eagerly to see them grow, and
rejoicing over each green leaf and slender stock that shot up and
flourished in the warm spring weather. Never was a garden more
faithfully hoed; Mr. Bhaer really feared that nothing would find
time to grow, Nat kept up such a stirring of the soil; so he gave
him easy jobs in the flower garden or among the strawberries,
where he worked and hummed as busily as the bees booming all
about him.

"This is the crop I like best," Mrs. Bhaer used to say, as she
pinched the once thin cheeks, now getting plump and ruddy, or
stroked the bent shoulders that were slowly straightening up with