In the fall the cabbages were harvested. This was about the last of October. George pulled them up by the roots. He found some of the heads rather soft, some bursting open. As it does not pay to keep such cabbage over, these were fed to the cattle--a gift, George called it, to pay for the fertilizer. All the fine solid heads are worth storing. In order to get nice white inner leaves, as the head begins to form break and bend over the outer leaves and those that protect the inner ones. It is a sort of blanching or bleaching process. Two hundred fine firm heads were the result of the work of this boy. "What are you going to do with all these, I'd like to know?" asked Jack. "I expect to store a number of them--one hundred and fifty, I should say. I'm going to give away fifty. In the winter I hope to sell about one hundred of my stored ones." George's way of storing cabbages is a good one. A spot was ploughed in the orchard between the rows of trees. Then the cabbages were piled in a neat pile roots up, one cabbage fitting into the other. All about and over this heap a layer of straw about four inches thick was placed. To hold the pile in place stakes were driven in about its base. To hold the straw, branches were placed over the whole and boards put on last. The straw packing kept the cabbage from freezing. If George's father had had a good tight shed the cabbage could have been stored on shelves in this. The ordinary home cellar is no place for storage of cabbage. Later in the winter he sold one hundred heads of cabbage to the markets in a near-by city. These he sold at two cents per head. They kept fifty at home. The boys tried long and hard to find out where the other fifty went. But George would not tell. There was an orphans' home some few miles from the village. It seems that at one time an appeal had been made at the school to the boys and girls to give whatever they could to this home. At that time George had nothing to give. No one knew how badly the boy felt, so as his cabbages grew the lad made a pledge with himself to give one quarter of his cabbage to this home. One evening in late October, George had hitched up an old farm horse, loaded his cabbage in, and had driven over to the home. The Chief learned of his kindness one December evening, when he visited the matron to see about Christmas gifts for the children. She told him that one evening in the fall a bashful lad had brought a load of cabbage to her, but would not tell his name. As the man walked home he thought of the really splendid ending of George's cabbage experiment. After all a garden reaches its real work when some of its product is given to those who are in need. "Now I see," said The Chief out loud, as he walked past George's house on his homeward way, "why George made out of his garden so much less than the others. I never could understand why he lost the prize. I am glad there are boys who care less for money than for other things." XII