Mrs. McCall set great store, as she said, by beets both pickled and fresh for winter consumption. When Neale ONeil chanced to go into the garden toward
supper time to see what Sammy was doing there, it was too late to save much of the crop.
Well, of all the dunces! ejaculated Neale, almost immediately seeing what Sammy had been about. Say! you didnt do that on purpose, did you? Or dont you know any better?
Know any bettern what ? demanded the bone-weary Sammy, in no mood to endure scolding in any case. Aint I done it all right? I bet you cant find a weed in that whole bed, so now.
Great grief, kid! gasped the older boy, seeing that Sammy was quite in earnest, I dont believe youve left anything but weeds in those rows. It its a knock-out!
Aw I never, gulped Sammy. I guess I know beets.
Huh! It looks as though you dont even know beans , chortled Neale, unable to keep his gravity. What a mess! Mrs. McCall will be as sore as she can be.
I dont care! cried the tired boy wildly. I saved just what Aggie told me to, and threw away everything else. And see how the rows are.
Why, Sammy, those arent where the rows of beets were at all. See! These are beets. Those are weeds. Oh, great grief! and the older boy went off into another gale of laughter.
I I do-o-ont care, wailed Sammy. I did just what Aggie told me to. And I want my half dollar.
You want to be paid for wasting all Mrs. McCalls beets?
I dont care, I earned it.
Neale could not deny the statement. As far as the work went, Sammy certainly had spent time and labor on the unfortunate task.
Wait a minute, said Neale, as Sammy started away in anger. Maybe all those beet plants you pulled up arent wilted. We can save some of them. Beets grow very well when they are transplanted especially if the ground is wet enough and the sun isnt too hot. It looks like rain for to-night, anyway.
Aw I
Come on! Well get some water and stick out what we can save. Ill help you and the girls neednt know you were such a dummy.
Dummy, yourself! snarled the tired and over-wrought boy. Ill never weed another beet again no, I wont!
Sammy made a bee-line out of the garden and over the fence into Willow Street, leaving Neale fairly shaking with laughter, yet fully realizing how dreadfully cut-up Sammy must feel.
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune seem much greater to the mind of a youngster like Sammy Pinkney than to an adult person. The ridicule which he knew he must suffer because of his mistake about the beet bed, seemed something that he really could not bear. Besides, he had worked all the afternoon for nothing (as he presumed) and only the satisfaction of having earned fifty cents would have counteracted the ache in his muscles.
Harried by his disappointment, Sammy was met by his mother in a stern mood, her first question being:
Where have you been wasting your time ever since dinner, Sammy Pinkney? I never did see such a lazy boy!
It was true that he had wasted his time. But his sore muscles cried out against the charge that he was lazy.
He could not explain, however, without revealing his shame. To be ridiculed was the greatest punishment Sammy Pinkney knew.
Aw, what do you want me to do, Maw? Work all the time? Aint this my vacation?
But your father says you are to work enough in the summer to keep from forgetting what work is. And look how grubby you are. Faugh!
What do you want me to do, Maw?
You might do a little weeding in our garden, you know, Sammy.
Weeding! groaned the boy, fairly horrified by the suggestion after what he had been through that afternoon.
You know very well that our onions and carrots need cleaning out. And I dont believe you could even find our beets.
Beets! Sammys voice rose to a shriek. He never was really a bad boy; but this was too much. Beets! cried Sammy again. I wouldnt weed a beet if nobody ever ate another of em. No, I wouldnt.
He darted by his mother into the house and ran up to his room. Her reiterated command that he return and explain his disgraceful speech and violent conduct did not recall Sammy to the lower floor.
Very well, young man. Dont you come down to supper, either. And well see what your father has to say about your conduct when he comes home.
This threat boded ill for Sammy, lying sobbing and sore upon his bed. He was too desperate to care much what his father did to him. But to face the ridicule of the neighborhood above all to face the prospect of weeding another bed of beets! was more than the boy could contemplate.
Ill run away and be a pirate thats just what Ill do, choked Sammy, his old obsession enveloping his harassed thoughts. Ill show em!
Neale! admonished Ruth. Such slang!
Come on, Neale, said the excited Agnes. Let you and me go down to Byburgs and ask her about the bracelet.
I really dont see how June can tell us anything, observed Ruth slowly.
Anyway, Agnes briskly said, putting on her hat, we need some candy. Come on, Neale.
The Wildwoods were Southerners who had not lived long in Milton. Their story is told in The Corner House Girls Under Canvas. The Kenways were very well acquainted with Juniper Wildwood and her sister, Rosa. Agnes felt privileged to question June about her life with the Gypsies.