THE DECISION 
7 
On the morrow Joseph awoke early. He was 
enthusiastic. 
“Those long, black birds,” he told me at break- 
fast, “that stay at the lower end of the wood by the 
triangle are called grackles; and a pair of blue- 
birds have taken possession of the house in the 
wall. There is now only one house to let for the 
summer.” 
Thus far we had secured our tenants without the 
slightest exertion. 
This same day the man who had made the bird- 
houses came and asked if he could help us get 
ready for planting. The back of winter now 
seemed to be broken, he said. Here indeed was 
something definite. “The farmers hardly think 
it is time for ploughing yet,” he remarked, and 
added that there was a good deal of clearing up 
to be done about the Six Spruces. Further, he told 
us that his name happened to be Timothy Pennell, 
and that he took an interest in the place, having 
sometimes worked on it for our great-aunt. It 
was he who had told Joseph the long, black birds 
were called grackles. Timothy seemed to know 
all about planting turnips and potatoes and beans 
and a good deal about flowers, although he said 
he mostly noticed the wild ones that came up of 
themselves in the woods and swamps. 
“We shall plant some wild flowers,” Little Jo- 
seph told him, “and have others that grow only in 
gardens.” 
