252 MAEY'S GAEDEN AND HOW IT GEEW 



Mary brightened at once. "Oh, would you?" 



Herr Trommel nodded. "Come, and I show you 

 how we do it. Where is the yellow-haired lad? You 

 better have him help you." 



"Haddie ? Oh, I '11 get him. But but don't you 

 wait, Mr. Trommel ; we '11 come right down to the 

 garden." And she was off. 



Herr Trommel went to the corner of the green- 

 house where his tools were kept, took up a spade 

 and a dung-fork, then took down from its peg his 

 thick woolen cap, settled it carefully on his head ; 

 then he opened the door. 



"We beat you, Mr. Trommel ! " cried Mary, as the 

 old gardener came out of the greenhouse. 



He laughed. "That is not much ; you have only 

 beaten my legs ; wait until you can beat the old 

 Peter at helping the plants to grow ! " 



"We 've got our shovels, Mr. Trommel," said the 

 boy. The football season had begun, and his shock of 

 hair shone like a yellow chrysanthemum above the 

 scarlet sweater. 



"Why do you call it a 'compost heap'?" asked 

 Mary. 



"Liebchen," said Mr. Trommel, " when you are in 

 the Himmel, I think the Hebe Gott will have to send 



