his is all," answered the blue-eyed toiler, displaying a handful of
flat, black seed in her apron.

"Those don't look like peas," cried Cherry, pausing to examine the
queer-looking things. "All I ever saw were round."

"Garden peas _are_ round," answered Peace, with a knowing air, "but
these are sweet peas, and they are flat."

"Did you ever see any before?" demanded Cherry suspiciously, nettled by
her sister's manner.

"No--o, but doesn't the sack they were in say 'sweet peas?'"

It certainly did, there was no disputing that fact, so Cherry discreetly
remained silent, and began her vigorous shoveling once more.

When the supper hour was announced the shallow, uneven trench was
completed, the seeds all covered, and three dirty gardeners perched in a
row on the fence, planning out the list of customers who would buy the
sweet blossoms when the vines had matured.

"There's the horn for supper," said Cherry.

"And I know Mrs. Lacy will be glad to get them sometimes, 'cause she
hasn't any flowers at all," continued Peace, ignoring the interruption.
"That makes ten people."

"Well, hurry up! I am hungry, and we'll have to wash before Gail will
give us anything to eat," cried the tallest girl impatiently. "I'll race
you to the pump."

"You are late," Hope greeted them, when, after a noisy splashing and
hasty wiping of faces, they entered the room. "Doesn't Allee's face look
funny with that black streak around it where she didn't hit the dirt?
What have you been doing to get so warm?"

"Planting sweet peas," answered Allee.

"Oh, Peace! After I said we would have Mike dig a trench by the fence!"

"You didn't say we _couldn't_ plant them, Gail. We dug it so's to save
Mike the trouble. Anyway, the seeds ought to be in the ground by this
time if they are ever going to blossom this year, and Mike is so slow.
We thought it was best not to wait. When do you s'pose they will come
up?"

"Oh, in about two or three weeks, maybe," Gail answered. "You better rub
your arms well with liniment before you go to bed tonight, or you will
be so lame tomorrow you can't move."

The incident was closed, and the sweet peas forgotten until one day
about three weeks later Hope called excitedly from the front yard,
"Gail, Gail, come here! What ever are these plants coming up all along
the fence? They are not sweet peas."

Gail came, examined the fat sprouts and looked at Hope in comical
dismay. "They are pumpkins or cucumbers or mel