murmur as they feasted on the long yellow blossoms that filled the
air with sweetness.
“Oh, it’s just beautiful!” cried Nat. “I do hope you’ll let me up
sometimes. I never saw such a nice place in all my life. I’d like to
be a bird, and live here always.”
“It is pretty nice. You can come if Demi don’t mind, and I guess he
won’t, because he said last night that he liked you.”
“Did he?” and Nat smiled with pleasure, for Demi’s regard seemed
to be valued by all the boys, partly because he was Father Bhaer’s
nephew, and partly because he was such a sober, conscientious
little fellow.
“Yes; Demi likes quiet chaps, and I guess he and you will get on if
you care about reading as he does.”
Poor Nat’s flush of pleasure deepened to a painful scarlet at those
last words, and he stammered out,
I can’t read very well; I never had any time; I was always fiddling
round, you know.”
“I don’t love it myself, but I can do it well enough when I want to,”
said Tommy, after a surprised look, which said as plainly as words,
“A boy twelve years old and can’t read!”
“I can read music, anyway,” added Nat, rather ruffled at having to
confess his ignorance.
“I can’t;” and Tommy spoke in a respectful tone, which
emboldened Nat to say firmly,
“I mean to study real hard and learn every thing I can, for I never
had a chance before. Does Mr. Bhaer give hard lessons?”
“No; he isn’t a bit cross; he sort of explains and gives you a boost
over the hard places. Some folks don’t; my other master didn’t. If
we missed a word, didn’t we get raps on the head!” and Tommy
rubbed his own pate as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of
raps, the memory of which was the only thing he brought away
after a year with his “other master.”
“I think I could read this,” said Nat, who had been examining the
books.
“Read a bit, then; I’ll help you,” resumed Tommy, with a
patronizing air.
So Nat did his best, and floundered through a page with may
friendly “boosts” from Tommy, who told him he would soon “go
it” as well as anybody. Then they sat and talked boy-fashion about
all sorts of things, among others, gardening; for Nat, looking down
from his perch, asked what was planted in the many little patches
lying below them on the other side of the brook.
“These are our farms,” said Tommy. “We each have our own
patch, and raise what we like in it, only have to choose different
things, and can’t change till the crop is in, and we must keep it in
order all summer.”
“What are you going to raise this year?”
“Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as they are about the easiest crop
a-goin’.”
Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had pushed back his hat,
put his hands in his pockets, and drawled out his words in
unconscious imitation of Silas, the man who managed the place for
Mr. Bhaer.
“Come, you needn’t laugh; beans are ever so much easier than corn
or potatoes. I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother,
and the old things wouldn’t get ripe before the frost, so I didn’t
have but one good water and two little ‘mush mellions,’ ” said
Tommy, relapsing into a “Silasism” with the last word.
“Corn looks pretty growing,” said Nat, politely, to atone for his
laugh.
“Yes, but you have to hoe it over and over again. Now, six weeks’
beans only have to be done once or so, and they get ripe soon. I’m
going to try ’em, for I spoke first. Stuffy wanted ’em, but he’s got to
take peas; they only have to be picked, and he ought to do it, he
eats such a lot.”
“I wonder if I shall have a garden?” said Nat, thinking that even
corn-hoeing must be pleasant work.
“Of course you will,” said a voice from below, and there was Mr.
Bhaer returned from his walk, and come to find them, for he