I

THE YELLOW DUST IS A FOOD FOR THE SEED

APRIL showers began early. The sun shone out brightly on the morning of the first day, but by breakfast time the rain was pattering down, and all the rest of the day there were showers, one after another, that streamed down the garden windows and made a little river of the path outside. Davy said he had never seen it rain so much in one day, and Prue said it was too bad. The Chief Gardener said it was an April fool.

But there was reason to be happy, after all. Whether it was the shower outside; or the sun that was trying to shine; or just because it was April, Prue and Davy did not know, but Prue all at once found a bud on her sunflowers and Davy about the same time discovered a tiny brown silky bunch on his corn, the beginning of the ear.

Then they forgot all about the rain, or at least they did not care so much, and got their books and their little table and sat down by their garden, which was now a real garden, of real flowers and vegetables, and read some stories about other little people, and looked at the pictures and talked about what they would do when warm weather came and they had a still bigger garden outside.

And that night, when the Chief Gardener came home, he had to look at the corn and the sunflower the first thing, and say, "Well, well," every time Prue told him how she had first seen the bud, which was a good many times, and he had to explain to Davy all about the corn silk, and the little ear that was still behind the rough green leaf, and how the dust, or pollen, dropping down from the tassel above helped to make the corn swell and grow on the ear.

"It is so in every flower, the yellow dust is a food for the seed. In most plants the seed-pod and the food-dust or pollen are all in one flower, but with the corn they are separate, as you see. Did you ever notice, Davy, how much a cornstalk looks like an Indian, with plumes, and its ear, like a quiver for holding arrows?"

"Oh, is that why people sometimes call it Indian corn?" asked Davy.

"No, that is not the reason. At least, there is a better one which I will tell you when we have had our dinner."

So by and by, when dinner was over, and Prue had two servings of pudding because she didn't care for chocolate cake—one very little serving, of course, the Chief Gardener and Davy, and big Prue and little Prue all went into the library, and the Chief Gardener told the story of

II

THE COMING OF THE CORN

"You remember," said the Chief Gardener, "how I told you about the first sunflowers—"

"Yes," put in Prue, "about that wicked Kapoka, who pushed poor Ahlogah from the high rocks. Oh, I hope he is not in the corn story, too."

"No, he isn't in the corn story, but it was, perhaps, about that time that the corn came to the American Indian tribes, for the corn was first found in America, and it is a true Indian plant like the sunflower. Like the sunflower, too, it came once upon a time.

"Well, then, once upon a time, there was a year of famine. The winter had been very cold, and almost all the wild game, upon which the Indians then lived, had either died or gone out of the country. The fish, too, seemed scarce and hard to catch, and the wild fruit had been winter-killed. There was little to eat during the winter, and even when spring came it was not much better, though by and by some of the game came back and there were more fish in the streams.

"Still it was very hard to get enough food, and every bird and animal was killed wherever found, and brought to the camps to be eaten.

"But one day there flew down very close to one of the very large camps a big bird, such as no one of the tribe had ever seen before. It was not a hawk, nor an eagle, for it was a golden yellow, and it seemed to have come a very long way. It sat quite still, and its wings drooped, and it did not seem frightened when the wondering and hungry Indians came nearer to look at it.

"Then one or two Indians began stringing their bows to shoot the great bird for food. But others said, 'No, let us not harm the stranger. He has come from a far country. And see, the color is golden, like the sun. Perhaps, the sun has sent a messenger, as a good omen.'

"So they did not kill the bird, but even brought it food, little as they had, and the bird ate and rested through the day. Then just at evening he lifted his great wings and flew away into the sunset, and was seen no more.

"But when a week had gone by, there came up where the bird had rested a strange new plant which grew very fast in the warm sun and shower and sent out long graceful leaves, and at last a plume at the top like that of an Indian chief, and from behind the graceful drooping leaves, tufts of silk that became ears, and were like Indian quivers. And when the summer was past, the tribe gathered these ears, and pulled away the husk, and lo, there were the rows of ripened corn, golden like the great bird.

"Then the tribes from far and near were called together, and there was great rejoicing and thanks for this new gift, brought to them by the wonderful bird of the sun. And to each chief was given a few of the grains for planting, so that the next year all the tribes around about were watching and tending the tall green stalks that were to give them abundance of seed against another famine.

"And that is the legend of the corn. After the third year there was seed for all, and corn became the best and surest food for all the Indian tribes. When the white men came, they ate it, too, and by cultivation made new kinds and colors. Now we have the sweet or sugar corn, the Davy's, and we have popcorn, too, which is only a dwarf corn with a hard, flinty shell which pops open with heat."

"Do they raise corn in any other country except America?" asked Davy.

"Oh, yes, there is a great deal raised in other countries now, and I believe they claim to have found some grains of it in a very old tomb in Greece, and a picture of it in a very old book in China, so, perhaps, it was from some place in the far East that the great bird of the Indians came with the seed."

"And does it belong to a family, too?" asked little Prue.

"It is claimed by the grass family, and, of course, it is something like big grass. Wheat and oats and, indeed, all the grains, belong to that wonderful family, too. Then there is broom-corn, useful for making brooms, while sugar-cane, which is also a grass, gives us our best sugar and molasses, but corn not only gives us the ears for food, but the leaves are used for cattle, and the husks for making cushions and mattresses, and for packing fruits. Syrup also is made from the young stalks, and the dry stalks are used for thatching, stable-bedding and fuel. In fact, every part of the corn is valuable, and I think we might call it the king, or, perhaps, being an Indian, the chief of the tribe of Grasses."

"I know the best of all the things that comes from it," said little Prue.

"What?" asked Davy.

"Pop-corn balls," said Prue.

III

CROSS BY NAME AND CROSS BY NATURE

What wonderful things happened to the little window-garden in April! The nasturtium bloomed early in the month—first a red one then a yellow one, then a lot of red and yellow ones. They were so beautiful that almost every meal the little pot stood on the table, and sometimes the pansy-pot, too.

And then the sweet-pease bloomed, beautiful pink and white and purple blooms that were so sweet you could smell them as soon as you came into the room. Davy's garden-pease had bloomed even sooner, and had little pods on them by April. Before many days the tiny pease inside began to swell, and you could see every one quite plainly when you turned the pod flat side to the light. As for the beans and morning-glories, they had bloomed and bloomed, and already had seed-pods hanging all the way up the vines that now reached to the top of the casings and looped down and joined in a long festoon which hung between.

And how proud the children were of their two beautiful windows. And how happy they were when passers-by stopped to look in, and perhaps wondered about the gardens, and maybe thought that the rosy-cheeked boy and girl looking out between the blossoms and leaves and vines were the brightest and best flowers that bloomed there.

And Davy's corn sent out another ear, a little one, and both ears grew and the pollen from above sifted down, and Davy knew that inside the green husks the sweet kernels were forming.

"When can we eat it?" he asked almost every day. "Don't you think it's about big enough now?"

"When the silk turns brown," said the Chief Gardener. "That is about the best rule. I think you'll have pease and beans, too, pretty soon, so you can have quite a feast."

"Just in time for my birthday," said big Prue, who had been an April baby a long time ago.

"It's ever so long till my birthday," said little Prue, rather sadly. "I don't think we'll have anything left by August."

"Oh, but I'll have a fine garden outside by then," said the Chief Gardener, "and you will, too. I'll have radishes and lettuce now before you know it;" for in spite of the cold snow and freeze, the Chief Gardener's first planting had sprouted fairly well, and was rapidly filling his first two little beds.

"Papa, you haven't told us a word about my nasturtiums yet, and they're so lovely. Not a single story or anything, nor about their family relations, or where they came from—not a thing."

"Well, that's so," said the Chief Gardener, "perhaps because I wanted to make a family affair of it. You see, Davy's radish is a sort of a name-cousin of your nasturtium, and I've been thinking that when I told about one I'd tell of the other, too, and that I'd call the story

IV

A PEPPERY FAMILY

"Nobody seems to know just where the Cross family came from. You can find them in every part of the world now, some of them growing as weeds, some as flowers, and some as very fine vegetables. But wherever they came from, in the beginning, they were certainly of very sharp, biting natures, and never could agree. Why, they were so cross that even their flowers were shaped like little crosses, and people called them cruciferous, which means cross-shaped, and used to say of them,

and did not want them in their gardens, because they disturbed the other vegetables and flowers, and might make them cross, too.

"Well, the Cross family became tired of this, at last, and made up their minds to be either useful or ornamental: at least, most of them did. So they got together, and after a great deal of quarrelling among themselves to begin with, for, of course, they couldn't help that when they had been unpleasant so long, they at last began to work together and decide what each wanted to be, and how it could be brought about.

"'I think,' said a fat one who was always better-natured than any of the others, 'I should like to be a nice sweet vegetable that people were very fond of and gave a good place to, in their gardens, where I should be well taken care of.'

"So the Clerk of Plants, who was alive then, like the Weather Clerk, you know, put down 'Cabbage,' which was the fat fellow's name, and wrote after it, 'Sweet vegetable—needs care.'

"'I,' said another, 'would like to be a sweet vegetable, too, but I want to grow mostly under the ground, so that I will need less care to keep off insects and worms.'

"So then the Clerk of Plants wrote 'Turnip,' and put after it, 'Vegetable with sweet, wholesome root; needs little care.'

"So they went on with those who wanted to be vegetables. But most of the others did not want to be quite so sweet in their nature as the turnip and the cabbage. They said they liked people with a little temper of their own, so the radish, who was a fat, red little chap, was put down as a vegetable rather sweet, but with sharp flavor, and 'Horseradish' was put down, 'Very sharp and biting, to be used only for seasoning.' The Clerk was about to turn to those who wanted to be flowers, when a little green plant, who had been named 'Nose Torment,' because he made people's noses itch and burn, spoke up and said, 'I should like to be beautiful and useful, too—a pretty green dressing that people like, and I will grow in the water, which may wash away some of my ill manners.'

"So then the Clerk of Plants dropped the name of 'Nose Torment' and wrote down, 'Water Cross, a fine table-salad—grows in clear streams.'

"'But I don't like the name "Cross,"' said the little plant.

"'Oh, well,' said the clerk, 'spell it with an "e" then—make it Cress.' So Water-cress it became, and all the others spelled their family name with an 'e,' too, and became the Cress family instead of the Cross family, just as people often change the spelling of their names to-day.

"But the Clerk of Plants wasn't through, for there were a good many who wanted to be flowers. Some of them wanted to be very sweet flowers, and some, like mustard, wanted to be flowers and useful, too. So the Clerk wrote down 'Wallflower,' and 'Stock' and Candy tuft,' and a good many others, but there was one gentle little blossom which said, 'Oh, I want to be white and pure, and have a sweet and delicate perfume that all people will love.' And this was 'Alyssum,' and when the Clerk wrote it down, he wrote it 'Sweet Alyssum,' and so it has been called ever since.

"And then, when the Clerk was all through, he said, 'There are some who have not come to the meeting. Where is your brother, Mustard? And yours, Alyssum, the one we call Pepper-grass, because he is so fiery?'

"Mustard and Alyssum shook their heads sadly.

"'Well,' said the Clerk, 'they have had their chance. They are wild and will always be,' so he wrote down. 'Wild Mustard' and Pepper-grass,' and after these names he put the word 'Weeds.'"

"But my nasturtium, Papa, what about that?"

"Why, that's so, I forgot all about your nasturtium. Well, you see, it doesn't really belong to the Cress family, but is only a name-relative. The word nasturtium comes from two Latin words, nasi tormentum, which means Nose Torment, and it was Nasturtium that little Water-cress had sometimes been called."

"But," said Prue, "my nasturtium isn't water-cress."

"THEY CALLED IT NASTURTIUM"