As the ground dried after the rain, a light crust formed on the surface, and in the wetter portions it was even inclined to bake or crack.  I was surprised at the almost magical effect of breaking up the crust and making the soil loose and mellow by cultivation.  The letting in of air and light caused the plants to grow with wonderful vigor.

On Wednesday morning Merton came running in, exclaiming, “O papa! there’s a green worm eating all the leaves off the currant and gooseberry bushes.”

I followed him hastily, and found that considerable mischief had already been done, and I went to one of my fruit books in a hurry to find out how to cope with this new enemy.

As a result, I said:  “Merton, mamma wishes to go to the village.  You drive her and Mousie down, and at the drug-store get two pounds of white hellebore, also a pound of Paris green, for I find that the potato bugs are getting too thick to be managed by hand.  Remember that these are poisons, the Paris green a deadly one.  Have them carefully wrapped up, and keep them from everything else.  When you return I’ll take charge of them.  Also, get a new large watering-can.”

That afternoon I mixed a heaping tablespoonful of the hellebore through the contents of the watering-can, on which I had painted the word “Poison.”  With this infusion I sprinkled thoroughly every bush on which I could find a worm, and the next morning we had the pleasure of finding most of these enemies dead.  But some escaped or new ones were hatched, and we found that we could save our currants only by constant vigilance.  Every evening, until the fruit was nearly ripe, we went over the bushes, and gave the vile little pests a dose wherever we found them.  Our other can I also labelled “Poison,” with dashes under it to show that it was to be used for Paris green alone.  A teaspoonful of this deadly agent was enough, according to my book, for the amount of water held by the ordinary wooden pail.  I kept this poison out of Bobsey’s reach, and, indeed, where no one but myself could get at it, and, by its aid, destroyed the potato beetles and their larvae also.  Whatever may be true in other parts of the world, in our region, certainly, success can be secured only by prompt, intelligent effort.

CHAPTER XXXII

CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVES

An evening or two after this we were taught that not even in our retired nook had we escaped the dangers of city life.  Winnie and Bobsey, in their rambles after strawberries, had met two other children, and, early in the acquaintance, fortunately brought them to the house.  The moment I saw the strange girl, I recognized a rural type of Melissa Daggett, while the urchin of Bobsey’s age did not scruple to use vile language in my hearing.  I doubt whether the poor little savage had any better vernacular.  I told them kindly but firmly that they must not come on the place again without my permission.