“But my garden didn’t,” stammered Mary Jane.  “Did it come on a train like I did?”

“No,” laughed Grandfather; “guess again.”

“It couldn’t come any other way,” insisted Mary Jane, “’cause I was out here last week with Grandmother to see her lettuce and this wasn’t here then and you can’t come ’way from my house in one day unless you ride on a train—­it’s too far.”

“That’s good thinking for Miss Five-year-old,” said Grandfather proudly, “so I guess I’ll have to explain.  You see, I wrote to your mother and asked her how your garden was at home.  And she told me, exactly; she even drew a little picture so I would know just how things were planted.  After I got that letter, it was easy to take nasturtiums and marigolds and lettuce from your grandmother’s garden and make one for you.  She was glad to give you some.”

“So that’s the reason you wouldn’t read Mother’s letter yesterday,” said Mary Jane.

“That’s it,” agreed Grandfather.

“And that’s the reason you were so tired last night,” continued Mary Jane.  “You’d been working so hard to ’sprise me.”

“Well,” admitted Grandfather, “that may have had something to do with it.”

“I think I’ve got the bestest grandfather!” exclaimed Mary Jane suddenly, and she threw her arms around him so hard, oh, ever so hard.  “And now do we work here?”

“Not to-day,” said Grandfather, “because you couldn’t work with my big tools.  Tomorrow morning I’ll drive into the village and get you a little set of tools just your size like you have at home.  This afternoon we’ll look around and see if everything’s all right in my garden.  Then to-morrow we can go to work, as soon as we come home.”

Mary Jane took hold of his hand and together they went back into his nice big garden.

“Um-m-m,” said Grandfather suddenly as he bent over his carrot bed.  “I was afraid so, I was afraid so!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Mary Jane who couldn’t see that much was wrong.

“See those nibbled off carrots?” asked Grandfather.

Mary Jane looked closely and saw the broken tips.

“We’ll have to catch that thief,” said Grandfather.  “I guess we need Bob after all.”  Grandfather stuck his finger to his mouth and made a loud whistle.  Then he called, “Here Bob!  Here Bob!  Here Bob!”

Bob came bounding down the garden path, wagging his tail and eager to be of use.

“See that?” demanded Grandfather, pointing to the broken tips.

Bob sniffed and sniffed.  He twisted his ears backward and forward and sniffed again.  Then he started briskly over to the back of the garden.

“We’ll find him!” exclaimed Grandfather.  “Come on, Mary Jane!  Bob’s not much of a hunter but I’ll guess that he’ll find him and we’ll scare him off!”

Mary Jane, who didn’t in the least understand who “him” was or what was going to be found or done, trotted along behind her grandfather and Bob eager to see something new.