Father laughed.  “What makes you think such a thing?” he asked.

“Papa,” said Margery, “the little leaves all look exactly alike! every plant has just two tiny leaves on it, and shaped the same; they are roundish, and grow out of the stem at the same place.”

Papa’s eyes began to twinkle.  “Many of the dicotyledonous plants look alike at the beginning,” he said, with a little drawl on the big word.  That was to tease Margery, because she always wanted to know the big words she heard.

“What’s ’dicotyledonous’?” said Margery, carefully.

“Wait till I come home to-night, dear,” said her father, “and I’ll tell you.”

That evening Margery was waiting eagerly for him.  When her father finished his supper they went together to the garden, and father examined the seedlings carefully.  Then he pulled up a little radish plant and a tiny beet.

“These little leaves,” he said, “are not the real leaves of the plant; they are only little pockets to hold food for the plant to live on till it gets strong enough to push up into the air.  As soon as the real leaves come out and begin to draw food from the air, these little substitutes wither up and fall off.  These two lie folded up in the little seed from the beginning, and are full of plant food.  They don’t have to be very special in shape, you see, because they don’t stay on the plant after it is grown up.”

“Then every plant looks like this at first?” said Margery.

“No, dear, not every one; plants are divided into two kinds:  those which have two food leaves, like these plants, and those which have only one; these are called dicotyledonous, and the ones which have but one food leaf are monocotyledonous.  Many of the dicotyledons look alike.”

“I think that is interesting,” said Margery.

“I always, supposed the plants were different from the minute they began to grow.”

“Indeed, no,” said father.  “Even some of the trees look like this when they first come through; you would not think a birch tree could look like a vegetable or a flower, would you?  But it does, at first; it looks so much like these things that in the great nurseries, where trees are raised for forests and parks, the workmen have to be very carefully trained, or else they would pull up the trees when they are weeding.  They have to be taught the difference between a birch tree and a weed.”

“How funny!” said Margery, dimpling.

“Yes, it sounds funny,” said father; “but, you see, the birch tree is dicotyledonous, and so are many weeds, and the dicotyledons look so much alike at first.”

“I am glad to know that, father,” said Margery, soberly.  “I believe I shall learn a good deal from living in the country; don’t you think so?”

Margery’s father took her in his arms.  “I hope so, dear,” he said; “the country is a good place for little girls.”

And that was all that happened, that day.