With something like dismay I called Mr. Jones’s attention to these silent forces, invading, not only the garden and fields, but the raspberries and, indeed, all the ground now devoted to fruit.
He laughed and said: “The Philistines are on you, sure enough. I’m busy whackin’ them over myself, but I guess I’ll have to come and give you a lift, for you must get these weeds well under before hayin’ and raspberry-pickin’ time comes. It’s warm today, and the ground’s middlin’ dry. I’ll show you what can be done in short metre. By the way, I’ll give you a little wrinkle worth knowin’. I’ve observed that you didn’t bring the children to the country to be like weeds—just ter grow and run ter seed, ye know. It’s ’stonishin’ how soon weeds, whether they’re people or pusley, get seedy. Well, now, call the children and come with me to the garden.”
We were all soon there, including my wife, who shared my solicitude.
“You see,” resumed Mr. Jones, “that these weakly little rows of carrots, beets, and onions would soon be choked by these weeds, not an inch high yet. The same is true of the corn and peas and other sags. The pertaters are strong enough to take care of themselves for a time, but not long. I see you and Merton have been tryin’ to weed and hoe them out at the same time. Well, you can’t keep up with the work in that way. Take now this bed of beets; the weeds are gettin’ even all over it, and they’re thicker, if anywhere, right in the row, so that it takes a good eye to see the beets. But here they are, and here they run across the bed. Now look at me. One good showin’ is worth all the tellin’ and readin’ from now to Christmas. You see, I begin with my two hands, and pull out all the weeds on each side of the little row, and I pull ’em away from the young beets so as not to disturb them, but to leave ’em standin’ straight and saucy. Careless hands will half pull out the vegetables at the same time with the weeds. I had to strap Junior once before he learned that fact, and it was amazin’ how I helped his eyesight and trained his fingers through his back. Well, now, you see, I’ve cleared out this row of beets half across the bed and the ground for an inch or two on each side of it. I drop the weeds right down in the spaces between the rows, for the sun will dry ’em up before dinnertime. Now I’ll take another row.”
By this time Merton and I were following his example, and in a few moments a part of three more rows had been treated in the same way.
“Now,” continued Mr. Jones, “the weeds are all out of the rows that we’ve done, and for a little space on each side of ’em. The beets have a chance to grow unchoked, and to get ahead. These other little green varmints in the ground, between the rows, are too small to do any harm yet. Practically the beets are cleaned out, and will have all the ground they need to themselves for three or four days; but these weeds between the rows would soon swamp everything. Now, give me a hoe, and I’ll fix them.”
He drew the useful tool carefully and evenly through the spaces between the rows, and our enemies were lying on their sides ready to wither away in the morning sun.
“You see after the rows are weeded out how quickly you can hoe the spaces between ’em,” my neighbor concluded. “Now the children can do this weedin’. Your and Merton’s time’s too valyble. When weeds are pulled from right in and around vegetables, the rest can stand without harm for a while, till you can get around with the hoe and cultivator. This weedin’ out business is ’specially important in rainy weather, for it only hurts ground to hoe or work it in wet, showery days, and the weeds don’t mind it a bit. Warm, sunny spells, when the soil’s a little dry, is the time to kill weeds. But you must be careful in weedin’ then, or you’ll so disturb the young, tender sass that it’ll dry up, too. See, I’ll pull some weeds carelessly. Now obsarve that the beets are half jerked up also. Of course that won’t answer. I’ll come over this afternoon with my cultivator, and we’ll tackle the corn and pertaters, and make such a swath among these green Philistines that you’ll sleep better tonight. But ye’re goin’ to come out right, mind, I tell ye so; and I’ve seen mor’n one city squash come to the country with the idee that they were goin’ to beat us punkins all holler.”
And he left us laughing and hopeful.
“Come, Winnie and Bobsey, begin here on each side of me. I’ll show you this morning and then I trust you can be left to do the weeding carefully by yourselves tomorrow. Pressing as the work is, you shall have your afternoons until the berries are ripe.”
“Can’t I help, too?” asked Mousie.
I looked into her eager, wistful face, but said, firmly: “Not now, dear. The sun is too hot. Toward night, perhaps, I’ll let you do a little. By helping mamma in the house you are doing your part.”
We made good progress, and the two younger children speedily learned the knack of working carefully, so as not to disturb the little vegetables. I soon found that weeding was back-aching work for me, and therefore “spelled” myself by hoeing out the spaces between the rows. By the time the music of the dinner bell sounded, hosts of our enemies were slain.
Mr. Jones, true to his promise, was
