Actually she was grubbing, might and main, at
the ungainly stalks of the balsams, pulling them up as fast as
she could and flinging them aside, careless where. Daisy came
to help with her trowel, and together they worked, amicably
enough but without a word, till the task was done. A great
space was left clear, and Molly threw herself back in her
wonted position for taking observations. Daisy wasted no time.
In hopeful delight she went on to make a hole in the ground in
which to sink the pot of geraniums. It was more of a job than
she thought, and she dug away stoutly with her trowel for a
good while before she had an excavation sufficient to hold the
pot. Daisy got it in at last; smoothed the surface nicely all
round it; disposed of the loose soil till the bed was trim and
neat, as far as that was concerned; and then stood up and
spoke. Warm, — how warm she was! her face was all one pink
flush, but she did not feel it, she was so eager.
"There," she said, "that will stand there nicely; and when the
cold weather comes, you can take the pot up and take it into
the house, just as it is; and if you do not let it freeze, it
will have flowers for you in the winter."
"Cold?" said Molly.
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