CHAPTER XXIV 



HELPING WEED THE PASTURE 



After reading about Farmer Higgins in Sallie's 

 letter, I asked Tommy if there were not some 

 farmers near here who would like us to help them 

 weed their pastures. Tommy and his father and 

 Grandmother have talked so much about vanish- 

 ing wild flowers, that I thought it would be fun to 

 find some that we could pick and pick until we 

 were tired. 



Tommy answered: "Uncle Hiram wouldn't 

 make a fuss if we should go and help him weed 

 his pasture, for he's got a field so covered with 

 Daisies and Black-eyed Susans that the color of 

 the grass can't be seen." 



Daisies are just coming out in our meadow, and 

 they give it a bright, pretty look. I remember 

 that most people in the city love Daisies, but here 

 it is a great disgrace to have them in the pastures. 

 People like Uncle Hiram don't seem to know they 

 are Daisies — he calls them " white weeds." 

 When many of them are in a field and it looks as 

 if soft clouds had dropped on it from the sky, the 

 farmers say, " Poor land, just covered with 

 weeds." 



I put on my frock of blue jean the day we went 

 to help Uncle Hiram, and Tommy had on his old 

 school suit. I 'spose it's a little harder work pull- 



