“They are,” said Bouncing Bet. “Oh, you will always be on the lookout now to find other members of that family, for there are many more. I wanted to call _Bridal Wreath_, but there wasn’t time.” “No time, indeed,” interrupted Jack. “Now, Bet, call the Night Shade family. They are not so pretty as the Rose family,” he whispered, “but just as useful.” Bouncing Bet blew upon her fingers. “Indian file,” she called, and out filed several members of the— NIGHT SHADE FAMILY There were: _Common Night Shade_, a tiny round black pill-like berry with a tiny white cap. _Sand Burr_, in a buff coat full of prickles. And what do you think? There was— _Common White Potato_, with a ridiculously small bell-shaped green and white cap. “Oh,” Mary Frances could not help exclaiming; “is White Potato a member of the Night Shade family? I thought night shade was poison!” “I ain’t poison—I ain’t! Not after I’m cooked!” growled Potato. “You’ve ate up enough of my brothers and sisters to know that!” “Hush!” admonished Bouncing Bet. “Keep still! That’s terrible grammar, even though you are a common ‘Tater,’ you ought to speak more correctly than that.” “Excuse me, but we’ve fed hundreds and thousands of people, and that’s more than any of the rest of you can say, even if you don’t like my grammar.” “Mercy!” cried a _Tomato_, running in. “Did you forget me?” He was dressed in a bright red, and wore a tiny yellow cap trimmed with green. “I belong to the Night Shade family, too, and I have fed hundreds and hundreds of people.” “Oh, you Love Apple!” broke in Potato. “Your relatives haven’t fed people as long as mine have.” “That must be so,” said Mary Frances. “I remember that my grandma told me that when her mother was young, tomatoes were called love apples, and were thought to be poisonous. Grand-mothers raised them in their gardens, though, because they were pretty.” “Poisonous!” Tomato’s face turned redder than ever. “Poisonous! Well, I should say! But then, you know how good we are, and that we are excellent for people who eat too much meat.” “Indeed we do know, don’t we, Mary Frances? We have some of you in our lunch basket,” laughed Eleanor. “Mary Frances has a lot of you growing in her garden, too.” “Has she any of my brothers and sisters growing in her garden?” asked a new voice. The girls saw the funniest, fattest brown fellow waddling along. “Hello, Humpty Dumpty!” cried out Tomato. “Nonsense,” declared the new-comer, “I’m not Humpty Dumpty! I can prove it; I can fall and you can pick me up again. See?” With that, over he went, smash! The other Night Shade people all ran to help him up. “How’s that, young ladies?” said he when they had set him on his tiny legs. “Doesn’t that prove I’m not an egg? Humpty Dumpty, indeed!” “Oh, you _Egg Plant_!” cried Potato. “Welcome, cousin. You’re another useful member of the Night Shade family.” “Perhaps ‘you-all’ don’t like me as well as those other Night Shades, but some folks do.”