"I think it would be a good plan," he said one morning, "to tie a rubber band to the top of each of my bean vines, and then fasten the other end higher up the window to help pull the vines along."
And little Prue said:
"I pulled my morning-glories along yesterday a little, with my fingers. I know they grew a tiny speck then, but they don't look quite so nice this morning."
The Chief Gardener came over to see what was going on.
"I don't think we'd better try any new plans," he said. "I'm afraid if we pull our plants to make them grow, we will have to pull them up altogether, pretty soon, and plant new ones. Tender little plants won't stand much handling."
The Chief Gardener was not cross, but his voice was quite solemn. Little Prue looked frightened and her lip quivered the least bit.
"Oh, will my morning-glories die now?" she asked; "and I pulled the pansies just a tiny speck, too. Will they die?"
"Not this time, I think; but I wouldn't do it again. Just give them a little water now and then, and dig in the pots a little, and turn them around sometimes so that each side of the plant gets the light, and nature will do the rest. Of course you can't turn the bean and morning-glory pots after they get to climbing the strings, but they will twine round and round and so turn themselves. Your garden looks very well for the time of year. Perhaps if you did not watch it so much it would grow faster. They say that a watched pot never boils, so perhaps a watched plant does not grow well. I am sure they do not like to be stretched up to a measuring-stick every morning at eight o'clock. Suppose now we put up the strings for the morning-glories and beans to climb on, and some nice branchy twigs for the pease, then water them well and leave them for a few days and see what happens."
So then the Chief Gardener and the two little gardeners went down in the basement, where they found some tiny screw-hooks and some string, and where they cut some nice sprangly little limbs from the Christmas tree that still stood in one corner, and was getting very dry. Then they all came up again and put up strings for the scarlet runners and morning-glories, by tying one end of each string to a stout little stick which the Chief Gardener pushed carefully into the soil between the plants, and then carried the string to the small screw-hooks, which were put about half-way up, and at the top of the window-casings. The branchy twigs were stuck carefully into the pots where the pease grew, and stood up straight and fine – like little ladders, Prue said – for the pease to climb.
"It's just like a circus," said Davy. "The beans and morning-glories will be climbing ropes, and the pease will be running up straight ladders."
"And while we are waiting for the performance to begin," added the Chief Gardener, "suppose you let me tell you something about the performers – where they came from, and some stories that are told of them."
II
HEY FOR THE MERRY LITTLE SWEET-PEA
The Chief Gardener went into the next room, which was the library, and drew a cozy little settee up before the bright hickory fire. It was just wide enough for three, and when he sat down, Davy and Little Prue promptly hopped up, one on each side. In a low rocker near the window Big Prue was doing something with silks and needles and a very bright pair of scissors. The Chief Gardener stirred the fire and looked into it. Then he said:
"Speaking of pease, I wonder if you ever heard this little song about
'Oh, a little sweet-pea in the garden grew —
Hey, for the merry little sweet-pea!
And a garden-pea, it grew there, too —
Hi, for the happy little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They grew there together —
Ho, for the pease in the garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!
'Oh, the sweet-pea bloomed and the eat-pea bore —
Hey, for the merry little sweet-pea!
And they both were sent to a poor man's door —
Hi, for the happy little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They came there together!
Ho, for the pease from the garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!
'Now, the poor man's poor little girl lay ill —
What a chance for a merry little sweet-pea!
And there wasn't a cent in the poor man's till —
Good-by to the jolly little eat-pea!
In all kinds of weather
They brought joy together
When they came from the happy little garden!
Hey, for the sweet-pea! Hi, for the eat-pea!
Hey, he, hi, ho, hum!'"
"Was there really ever a poor man and a little sick girl who had pease sent to them?" asked little Prue, as the Chief Gardener finished.
"Oh, I am sure there must have been! A great many of them."
"But the ones you sung about. Those really same ones – did they ever really live, or did you make it up about them?"
"I don't think my pease would be quite enough for a poor man who didn't have a cent of money," said Davy, after thinking about it.
"But my sweet-pease will be enough, only I want to know if there is really such a little girl, so I can send them. Is there, Papa?"
"Well, I am sure we can find such a little girl, if we try. And I know she'd be glad for some sweet-pease. And now here's a little story that I really didn't make up, but read a long time ago.
"Once upon a time there were two friars – "
"What are friars?" asked Prue. "Do they fry things?"
"Well, not exactly, though one of these did do some stewing, and the other, too, perhaps, though in a different way. A friar is a kind of priest, and these two had done something which the abbot, who is the head priest, did not like, so he punished them."
"What did they do?" asked Prue, who liked to know just what people could be punished for.
"I don't remember now. It's so long – "
"What do you s'pose it was?"
"Well, I really can't s'pose, but it may have been because they forgot their prayers. Abbots don't like friars to forget their prayers – "
"If I should forget my prayers, I'd say 'em twice to make up."
"Oh, Prue!" said Davy, "do let Papa go on with the story!"
"But I would. I'd say 'em sixty times!"
"Yes," said the Chief Gardener, "friars have to do that, too, I believe; but these had to do something different. They had to wear pease in their shoes."
"Had to wear pease! In their shoes!"
"Yes, pease, like those we planted, and they had to walk quite a long ways, and, of course, it wouldn't be pleasant to walk with those little hard things under your feet.
"Well, they started, and one of them went limping and stewing along, and making an awful fuss, because his feet hurt him so, but when he looked at the other he saw that instead of hobbling and groaning as he was, he was walking along, as lively as could be, and seemed to be enjoying the fine morning, and was actually whistling.
"'Oh, dear!' said the one who was limping, 'how is it you can walk along so spry, and feel so happy, with those dreadful pease in your shoes?'
"'Why,' said the other, 'before I started,