I found that Brindle in the pasture hadn't minded the rain, but only appeared the sleeker for it. When at last I came in to supper, I gave my wife a handful of berries, at which she and the children exclaimed. I had permitted a dozen plants of each variety of my garden strawberries to bear, that I might get some idea of the fruit. The blossoms on the other plants had been picked off as soon as they appeared, so that all the strength might go toward forming new plants. I found that a few of the berries of the two early kinds were ripe, also that the robins had been sampling them. In size, at least, they seemed wonderful compared with the wild fruit from the field, and I said: "There will be lively times for us when we must get a dozen bushels a day, like these, off to Mr. Bogart." The children, then, thought it would be the greatest fun in the world. By the time supper was over, Mr. Jones and Junior appeared, and my neighbor said in hearty good-will: "You got your cultivatin' done in the nick of time, Mr. Durham. This rain is a good hundred dollars in your pocket and mine, too." I soon perceived that our enemies, the weeds, had millions in reserve, and on Monday--the day after the rain--with all the children helping, even Mousie part of the time, we went at the garden again. To Mousie, scarcely an invalid any longer, was given the pleasure of picking the first green peas and shelling them for dinner. We had long been enjoying the succulent lettuce and the radishes, and now I said to Winnie: "To-morrow you can begin thinning out the beets, leaving the plants three inches apart. What you pull up can be cooked as spinach, or 'greens,' as country people say. Our garden will soon enable us to live like princes." As the ground dried after the rain, a light crust formed on the surface, and in the wetter portions it was even inclined to bake or crack. I was surprised at the almost magical effect of breaking up the crust and making the soil loose and mellow by cultivation. The letting in of air and light caused the plants to grow with wonderful vigor. On Wednesday morning Merton came running in, exclaiming, "O papa! there's a green worm eating all the leaves off the currant and gooseberry bushes." I followed him hastily, and found that considerable mischief had already been done, and I went to one of my fruit books in a hurry to find out how to cope with this new enemy. As a result, I said: "Merton, mamma wishes to go to the village. You drive her and Mousie down, and at the drug-store get two pounds of white hellebore, also a pound of Paris green, for I find that the potato bugs are getting too thick to be managed by hand. Remember that these are poisons, the Paris green a deadly one. Have them carefully wrapped up, and keep them from everything else. When you return I'll take charge of them. Also, get a new large watering-can."