CHAPTER IX 



WAITING FOR THE SWEET PEAS 

 [April] 



HEN Mary pushed open the gate, Herr Peter 

 Trommel was sitting on the step of his green- 

 house, smoking his pipe as peacefully as if it were not 

 Saturday morning, the busiest of the week. "Ah, a 

 fine day, little one," said he, lifting the pipe from his 

 mouth and puffing out a cloud of smoke, "and how 

 does the planting?" 



The small gardener's sleeves were rolled up ; she 

 had evidently been already at work. "I came over 

 for some advice, Mr. Trommel. The sweet peas are n't 

 up yet. Do you think they are all right ? Ought n't 

 we to look at them ? " she added anxiously. 



The old gardener laughed. "When did we plant 

 them?" 



"Almost a week ago," said Mary, reproachfully. 

 66 



