had been. "I've been meaning to get at this for a week," said Mr. Merrill,
"but I hate to work alone. If you'll help me, we can have the finest garden
ever. Now where do you want yours to be?"

Mary Jane looked around thoughtfully. There was the rose bed--she surely
couldn't have that, it belonged to mother. And the asparagus bed, it was
already showing shoots of green. "I guess I'll take next door to the
rose bed," she decided promptly, "because I like roses. Can I dig it all
myself?"

"Pretty soon," said father. "I dig first with the big spade. Then you dig
with yours. Then I hoe it--I'll show you how when we're ready; and you hoe
with your hoe." And he set to work.

"Then do the things just grow?" asked Mary Jane as she watched him.

"Not till we plant them," answered her father. "What are you going to
have?"

"Worms for the robin so he won't have to work so hard," said Mary Jane
promptly, "and a lot of flowers."

"I guess you won't have to worry about the worms," laughed Mr. Merrill as
he turned over a big spadeful of earth, "Mr. Robin will find plenty--see?
I'll make a guess that he's watching us from the apple tree this very
minute! Suppose you run into the garage and look on the table there. You'll
find packages of seeds. Bring them out here and we'll see which you want in
your bed."

While Mr. Merrill gave the earth its heavy spading, Mary Jane got the