And then a boy,
whom John knows, rides by in a wagon with his father, and the boy
makes a face at John, and John returns the greeting with a twist of
his own visage and some symbolic gestures. All these things take
time. The work of cutting down the big weeds gets on slowly, although
it is not very disagreeable, or would not be if it were play. John
imagines that yonder big thistle is some whiskered villain, of whom he
has read in a fairy book, and he advances on him with "Die, ruffian!"
and slashes off his head with the bill-hook; or he charges upon the
rows of mullein-stalks as if they were rebels in regimental ranks, and
hews them down without mercy. What fun it might be if there were only
another boy there to help. But even war, single handed, gets to be
tiresome. It is dinner-time before John finishes the weeds, and it is
cow-time before John has made much impression on the garden.
This garden John has no fondness for. He would rather hoe corn all
day than work in it. Father seems to think that it is easy work that
John can do, because it is near the house! John's continual plan in
this life is to go fishing.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25