u and mother have promised to
take care of this garden, while I take care of the big one."

"I wouldn't _not_ take care of it for anything!" said Margery. "I want
to feel that it is my very own."

[Illustration]

Her father kissed her, and said it was certainly her "very own."

Two evenings after that, when Margery was called in from her first
ramble in the fields, she found the postman at the door.

"Something for you, Margery," said her mother, with the look she had
when something nice was happening.

It was a box, quite a big box, with a label on it that said:--

MISS MARGERY BROWN,
PRIMROSE COTTAGE,
21 NARCISSUS ROAD,
COLCHESTER.

From Seeds and Plants Company, Reading.

Margery could hardly wait to open it. It was filled with little
packages, all with printed labels; and in the packages, of course, were
seeds. It made Margery dance, just to read the names,--nasturtium, giant
helianthus, canariensis, calendula, Canterbury bells: more names than I
can tell you; and other packages, bigger, that said, "Sweet Peas,"
"French beans," "Carrots," "Wallflowers," and such things! Margery could
almost smell the posies, she was so excited. Only, she had seen so
little of flowers that she did not know what all the names meant. She
did not know that a helianthus was a sunflower until her mother told her
so, and she had never seen the dear, blue, bell-shaped flowers that
always grow in old-fashioned gardens, and are called Canterbury bells.
She thought the calendula must be a strange, grand flower, by its name;
but her mother told her it was the gay, sturdy, everydayish little
flower called a marigold. There was a great deal for a little city girl
to be surprised about, and it did seem as if morning was a long way off!

"Did you think you could plant them in the morning?" asked her mother.
"You know, dear, the ground has to be made ready first; it takes a
little time,--it may be several days before you can plant."

That was another surprise. Margery had thought she could begin to sow
the seed right off.

But this was what had happened. Early the next morning, a man came
driving up to the cottage with two strong white horses; in his wagon was
a plough. I suppose you have seen ploughs, but Margery never had, and
she watched with great interest, while the man and her father took the
plough from the cart and harnessed the horses to it. It was a great,
three-cornere