“Billy, get some blue flowers to put with the coreopsis?” Mary Frances called after a minute, and Billy began to cut some eupatorium. “Isn’t this a charming bouquet!” exclaimed Eleanor as she arranged the blue and yellow flowers. They all admired it, but they voted the pink roses, and larkspur, and baby’s breath the most beautiful of all. “Now, we’re ready to start!” Billy led off with the wheelbarrow, the girls following with baskets of the herbs and flowers. “Have you planned to do anything special with the money, Mary Frances?” asked Eleanor. “Well, for one thing, I shall save a good deal for seeds and plants in the Spring, and Billy says we’ll plant bulbs in the Fall. That will cost quite a little.” “And we’re planning to make a hotbed and a cold frame,” broke in Billy, who overheard. “And when we started gardening I borrowed quite a little sum for seeds from my savings account—with Mother’s permission. I have to put that back,” Mary Frances added. “Money, like all good things,” Billy looked wise, “should be taken care of!” “Oh, you miser, Billy!” Mary Frances playfully shook her finger. “Isn’t it strange what funny ideas some people have of how things grow?” remarked Billy. “A city chap at school told me he had always thought that cabbages grew on vines and potatoes were picked off bushes!” “Well, if he never saw them growing, how could he know?” Mary Frances reasoned after they stopped laughing. “That’s right!” teased Billy. “Stand up for him.” By that time they were in the heart of the village, and had very soon sold everything, for the village people had become accustomed to look for the children. “Every vegetable you bring is so fresh that we wait to buy of you,” several said. “Splendid luck to-day,” commented Billy, on the way home. “Have you saved the things your mother ordered?” asked Eleanor. “Of course,” answered Billy. “You don’t suppose we’d neglect one of our first and best paying customers.” “Mother is a dear!” said Mary Frances. “So is Father! They must wonder why they haven’t been invited to see our gardens.” “When are you going to ask them?” Eleanor inquired. “Why, don’t you remember? When we give our garden party.” “That’s to be about the first of September, I believe,” said Billy. CHAPTER LIII MARY FRANCES’ GARDEN PARTY “THERE!” Mary Frances looked up from her writing. “That is the last invitation, all ready for the envelope. Eleanor, did you hear?” “I heard,” her little friend laughed, “but I was so busy putting the last curl to the tail of the address on the last envelope that I couldn’t pay attention.” “Oh, I am so much obliged to you for addressing them,” said Mary Frances. “Let me see if I’ve thought of every one,” laying them aside as she counted. “Here is Grandma’s; here, Aunt Maria’s; here, your father’s; here, Bob’s; and last, but very important, Mother and Father’s. Let’s go mail them.” “What did you say to Aunt Maria?” Eleanor inquired as they walked along.