Ethel Mortons Enterprise | Page 7

shades of gray.
"The beauty of this stunt is that a fellow who can't draw at all can turn out almost as good a masterpiece as Ethel Blue here, who has the makings of a real artist," and James gazed at his production with every evidence of satisfaction.
As it happened none of them except Ethel Blue could draw at all well, so that the next game had especial difficulties.
"All there is to it is to draw something and let us guess what it is," said Ethel Blue.
"You haven't given all the rules," corrected Roger. "Ethel Blue makes two dots on a piece of paper--or a short line and a curve--anything she feels like making. Then we copy them and draw something that will include those two marks and she sits up and 'ha-has' and guesses what it is."
"I promise not to laugh," said Ethel Blue.
"Don't make any such rash promise," urged Helen. "You might do yourself an injury trying not to when you see mine."
It was fortunate for Ethel Blue that she was released from the promise, for her guesses went wide of the mark. Ethel Brown made something that she guessed to be a hen, Roger called it a book, Dicky maintained firmly that it was a portrait of himself. The rest gave it up, and they all needed a long argument by the artist to believe that she had meant to draw a pair of candlesticks.
"Somebody think of a game where Ethel Brown can do herself justice," cried James, but no one seemed to have any inspiration, so they all went to the fire, where they cracked nuts and told stories.
"If you'll write those orders for the seed catalogues I'll post them to-night," James suggested to Helen.
"Oh, will you? Margaret and I will write them together."
"What's the rush?" demanded Roger. "This is only January."
"I know just how the girls feel," sympathized James. "When I make up my mind to do a thing I want to begin right off, and the first step of this new scheme is to get the catalogues hereinbefore mentioned."
"We can plan out our back yards any time, I should think," said Dorothy.
"Father says that somebody--was it Bacon, Margaret?--says that a man's nature runs always either to herbs or to weeds. Let's start ours running to herbs in the first month of the year and perhaps by the time the herbs appear we'll catch up with them."
CHAPTER III
DOROTHY TELLS HER SECRET
"How queer it is that when you're interested in something you keep seeing and hearing things connected with it!" exclaimed Ethel Blue about a week after her birthday, when Della Watkins came out from town to bring her her belated birthday gift.
The present proved to be a slender hillock covered with a silky green growth exquisite in texture and color.
"What is it? What is it?" cried Ethel Blue. "We mentioned plants and gardens on my birthday and that very evening Margaret brought me this grapefruit jungle and now you've brought me this. Do tell me exactly what it is."
"A cone, child. That's all. A Norway spruce cone. When it is dry its scales are open. I filled them with grass seed and put the cone in a small tumbler so that the lower end might be damp all the time. The dampness makes the scales close and starts the seed to sprouting. This has been growing a few days and the cone is almost hidden."
"It's one of the prettiest plants--would you call it a plant or a greenhouse?--I ever saw. Does it have to be a Norway spruce cone?"
"O, no. Only they have very regular scales that hold the seed well. I brought you out two more of them and some grass seed and canary seed so you could try it for yourself."
"You're a perfect duck," and Ethel gave her friend a hug. "Now let me show you what one of the girls at school gave Ethel Brown."
She indicated a strange-looking brown object hanging before the window.
"What in the world is it? It looks--yes, it looks like a sweet potato."
"That's what it is--a sweet potato with one end cut off and a cage of tape to hold it. You see it's sprouting already, and they say that the vines hang down from it and it looks like a little green hanging basket."
"What's the object of cutting off the end?"
"Anna--that's Ethel Brown's friend--said that she scooped hers out just a little bit and put a few drops of water inside so that the sun shouldn't dry it too much."
"I should think it would grow better in a dark place. Don't you know how Irish potatoes send out those white shoots when they're in the cellar?"
"She said she started hers in the cellar and then brought them into the light."
"Just like bulbs."
"Exactly. Aunt Louise is having great luck