frost nips them.
But the garden plants have gotten their full growth, and are not babies
any more, so the weeds can not do them so much harm. Most of the bugs and
worms, too, have died or been eaten by the birds. The birds are the
gardener's best friend, for they eat many worms and bugs that could not be
killed in any other way. So the more insect-eating birds you have around
your garden the better. Even though the robins may take a few cherries
they don't get paid half enough that way for the good work they do."

"How am I going to harvest my beans?" asked Mab. "There aren't many more
green ones left to boil, for Mother canned a lot of them."

"What are left of your beans we will save dried, to make into baked beans
this Winter," said her father.

"And what about my corn?" Hal wanted to know.

"Well, your mother canned some of that," answered his father, "that is the
sweet kind. The yellow ears I will show you how to save for the chickens
this winter, and there is another kind--well, I'll tell you about that a
little later," and he smiled at the children.

"Oh, have I got three kinds of corn?" asked Hal, clapping his hands in
delight.

"We'll see when we come to harvest it," said Daddy Blake.

"Maybe I'll win the prize with that!" exclaimed the little boy. "Come on,
Mab! Let's go in and look at the ten dollar gold piece. I hope I win it!"

"I hope you do, too, Hal," said his sister. "But I'd like it myself, and
I've got a awful lot of beans. My vines are covered with them--I mean
dried ones, in pods like peas."

"I wish we could both have the prize," said Hal. "But if I win I'll give
you half, Mab."

"So will I to you!" exclaimed the little girl.

As they ran toward the house they saw a farmer, from whom their mother
often bought things, standing on the porch. In his hand he held what
looked to be a big whip. There was a long wooden handle and fast to it was
a shorter stick of wood.

"There's the flail I told Mr. Blake I'd bring him," said the farmer to
Aunt Lolly, who had come to the door when he rang the bell.

"A flail," she repeated. "What is it for?"

"Well, I think Mr. Blake wants to whip some beans with it," and the farmer
laughed, while Hal and Mab looked at him curiously.

CHAPTER XII

PUMPKIN PIE

"Oh, Hal!" murmured Mab, as she looked at the queer sticks the farmer had
brought. "It does seem like a whip! I wonder if Daddy is going to whip
Roly-Poly for getting in the mole trap?"