It was nearly dark when Wayne reached “Carhurst” and June had supper ready and waiting. Sam was ready and waiting, too, but he forgot his hunger long enough to make a fuss over his master. Wayne narrated his experiences of the day while they plied busy knives and forks and then June brought the chronicle of his life down to date. But the most interesting item of information to Wayne was June’s announcement that one of the tomato plants had buds on it, and nothing would do but that Wayne had to jump up from “table” and rush forth in the twilight and see for himself. The garden was showing promise by that time, although nothing was more than a few inches high. Wayne was up early the next morning so as to do a half-hour’s gardening before he left for town. He had long since made the discovery that eradicating grass from a meadow is not a simple matter of removing the turf, for the grass was always threatening to choke his seedlings utterly, and it was only by watching and working that he was able to keep it down. When he wasn’t weeding he was poking up the dirt with a pointed stick in lieu of trowel. June called this “coaxin’ ’em,” and opined that “if they flowers don’ act pretty, Mas’ Wayne, ’twon’ be no fault o’ yourn!” But it was the tomato plants that interested June most, and he was forever estimating the crop to be picked later on from the six rather spindling plants that they had bought at the grocer’s. He declared that each one ought to yield fifteen “big, red, ripe, juicy tomatuses,” and that if they consumed only six a day the supply would provide for them only two weeks. It was June’s firm and oft reiterated conviction that they should have planted just three times as many! Tomatoes were a weakness with June. But two days later he found something besides the prospective tomato crop to interest his idle hours. At Wayne’s invitation he met the latter at the freight house one afternoon and accompanied him out to the Y. M. C. A. field to watch the doings. But just looking on never suited June very well and it wasn’t a quarter of an hour before he was on speaking terms with everyone there. The fellows enjoyed hearing his soft dialect and did their best to draw him out, punctuating his remarks with laughter. June was speedily established on the bench, and from just sitting idly there to presiding over the bats and the fortunes of the players was but a short step. “Jus’ you let me choose you a bat, Mister Cap’n. I goin’ put a conjur on this yere stick o’ wood, sir, an’ you-all’s goin’ to everlastin’ly lam that yere ball, yes, sir!”