In the Beginning 5 
“Oh,” said I, “I dug it up, and made the earth light. 
What more do you have to do?” and I showed him where I 
had prodded the earth a little, perhaps three inches deep. 
He did not answer, but smiled inscrutably. “I'll make the 
bed ready for you,”’ he said; and then began such elaborate 
operations as I had never dreamed of. 
It was around a huge boulder that the bed was to be made. 
First he took an axe—a very dull one, to be sure; but I began 
to see the varied and hitherto unsuspected uses of a whole row 
of axes which hung neatly upon the barn wall—and made a 
deep clean-cut line through the turf two feet distant from the 
boulder. Making cross cuts a foot apart, he lifted the squares 
of sod lightly with an implement called a spading fork, turned 
them over to beat the loose earth from the roots, which soil he 
assured me was too good to lose. Then he spaded the earth 
fifteen inches deep, picking out every stone, then brought a 
whole wheelbarrow load of well rotted manure, working it in 
thoroughly, and added a bucketful of wood ashes, mixing it 
with the soil. 
I am ashamed to relate the amazement I felt at the great 
care he was taking. “Do you have to do this with all flower 
beds?” I asked with studied carelessness. 
“Tf you want things to grow,” answered he. Now if Adam 
had been any other man he would have seized the opportun- 
ity to instruct his wife on her many dishonorable points of 
ignorance; but, because it was he, I was allowed to chew the 
cud of reflection on past sins of omission and draw my own 
inferences from former failures. 
When the bed was smoothed and raked, and the loose earth 
and stones removed from the grass, Adam stood off for the first 
time to view his work, which restraint I think shows masculine 
superiority. I have a fluttering way of stepping off at least 
ten times while doing anything, just to see how well it looks. 
