“Mr. Burnside has been busy all through March, and already has garden peas in.  It seems absurdly early, but he prophesies that there’ll be no more frosts that they can’t stand, and promises us peas on the table three weeks earlier than our neighbours.  He is nothing if not daring.  He reads and reads in those books and magazines and papers of his, and then starts out, armed for action.  He and Jake spend much time arguing over details, but I believe he usually carries his point.

“Don says that while he was finishing his work in your garden your brother Max came home and strolled out to see what he was doing.  Don mentioned the fact that it would soon be time for the whole garden to be dug and raked and put in spring order, and Mr. Lane answered that he would see that it was done—­in fact he thought he should do it himself.  I don’t exactly understand why this should seem to give Don so much satisfaction, but it does.  He told me to be sure to tell you.”

Clearly it gave Sally satisfaction also, for she read this particular paragraph a second time, smiling to herself, before she put the letter aside.

On the seventh of April came a screed from Alec of quite surprising length—­for Alec, and it interested his sister more than any letter she had had from him during the winter.

“DEAR SALLY LUNN: 

“Haven’t time to write much.  Have hired out J.B. as a farm hand, and he keeps a fellow some busy.  For two weeks, now, we’ve been clearing up the old wood in the timber lot and getting out new stuff for fence posts, etc.  Evenings he gets me at books.  Am reading up on soil now, surprised to find it quite interesting.  J.B. and I talk plans a lot more than Max does, though I think the old boy is going to get into it in time all right.  Maybe you’d like to know what our plans are.  Well, here goes: 

“Cut off the suckers in the orchard, plough, and later spray—­before the leaves come.  That means hustle—­but we’re nearly through with the pruning.  Bob and Mr. Ferry are at that.

“Then we’ll plough five acres of what we let go to hay last year, and plant it to corn, with half an acre of potatoes.  The other five acres we’ll let grow to hay.  Next year we’ll have alfalfa where we have corn this year.  J.B. is daft on alfalfa, and I’m beginning to see why.  The five acres of hay, with the corn, will be enough for the two cows, and we’ll keep the pasture over beyond the orchard for them.  Miss Janet says as long as she lives there she wants to see those cows—­or other ones—­come down the lane by the orchard at milking time—­only she wishes there were more of them and a collie to drive them.  Think I’ll have to get a collie, to satisfy her, though Cowslip and Whitenose are at the bars regular as a clock, all by themselves.