Grumble, planted my garden with squash. I
would have asked her rather to sow melons here." Just then Mrs.
Grumble came to the edge of the vegetable garden.
"Seed potatoes are over three dollars a bushel," she said: "it's hardly
worth while putting them in."
"Then let's not put any in," Mr. Jeminy said promptly, "for they are
difficult to weed, and when they are grown you must begin to quarrel
with insects, for whose sake alone, I almost think, they grow at all."
"The bugs fall off," said Mrs. Grumble, "with a good shaking."
"Fie," said Mr. Jeminy, "how slovenly. It is better to kill them with
lime. But it is best of all not to tempt them; then there is no need
to kill them."
And as Mrs. Grumble made no reply, he added:
"That is something God has not learned yet."
"Please," said Mrs. Grumble, "speak of God with more respect."
After supper Mr. Jeminy sat in his study reading the story of Saint
Francis, the Poor Brother of Assisi. One day, soon after the saint had
left behind him the gay affairs of town, to embrace poverty, for Jesus'
sake, and while he was still living in a hut of green branches near the
little chapel of Saint Damian, he beheld his father coming to upbraid
him for what he considered his son's obstinate folly.
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