flaymaking. 89
and then, when you are going into Rhydewm with
the cart, maybe you would take some in, you know,
or I would go in with a basket. What do you
think, father ?”

“Hm! I don’t think you will make any hand of
it,” said my father, “and it will be no end of trouble
—and here’s my pipe gone clean out.”

I sighed, and gave up my project for lost ; but
the next day I discovered that this had been my
father’s way of giving his consent, for I found him
busy marking out the boundary of the part to be
dug up, and joyfully ran to help, while Nance
stood and watched our proceedings with undisguised
scorn.

“A fine market gardener you will make, with
your spelling and your book-learning. Be you going
to learn gardening out of your books ?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Books will teach one any-
thing.”

“Books will lead you to ruin,” returned Nance.
“ Book-farming ends in jail, and so will your book-
gardening, mark you my words. Be you grown
too grand to fetch me a can of water fro’ the well?
I suppose I may wait upon myself, now.”

I did go by book-gardening, and it did not end
in jail. Mr. Hurst interested himself greatly in my
project, of which he much approved ; and he got