used them; you know what you've done to them; you know how you've
even wished there were NO SUCH THINGS IN THE WORLD!"

"Oh, Aunt Judy, how capital!" ejaculated No. 6, with a sigh, the sigh
of exhausted amusement.

"'The HUM was a weed too, then, was it?" said No. 8. He did not
quite see his way through the tale.

"It was not a weed in the meadow," answered Aunt Judy, "where it was
useful, and fed the Alderney cow. It was beautiful Grass there, and
was counted as such, because that was its proper place. But when it
put its nose into garden-walks, where it was not wanted, and had no
business, then everybody called the beautiful Grass a weed."

"So a weed is a vegetable out of its place, you see," subjoined No.
5, who felt the idea to be half his own, "and it won't do to wish
there were none in the world."

"And a vegetable out of its place being nothing better than a weed,
Mr. No. 5," added Aunt Judy, "it won't do to be too anxious about
what is so often falsely called, bettering your condition in life.
Come, the story is done, and now we'll go home, and all the patient
listeners and weeders may reckon upon getting one or more farthings
apiece from mamma. And as No. 6's wish is not realized, and there
are still weeds {1} in the world, and among them Grass weeds, _I_
shall hope to have some cream to my tea."