The Soil and the Seed

The boy's hands were deep in the recesses of his pockets.

"I don't know how."

"That's nothing." The small brunette had the air of one to whom difficulties were unknown. "I'll show you. Papa and I play, and it's lots of fun--only he beats me." She looked about for available material.

"You get that little box up by the house," she directed, "and we'll have that for the rock."

Ben did as ordered.

"Now bring two tin cans. You'll find a pile back of the barn."

Once more the boy departed, to return a moment later with a pair of "selects," each bearing in gaudy illumination a composite picture of the ingredients of succotash.

"Now watch me," said Florence.

She carried the box about a rod away and planted it firmly on the ground. "This is the rock," she explained. On the top of the box she perched one of the cans, open end up. "And this is the duck--my duck. Do you see?"

The boy had watched the proceedings carefully. "Yes, I see," he said.

Florence came back to the barn. "Now the game is for you to take this other can and knock my duck off. Then we both run, and if you get your can on the box ahead of me, I'm it, and I'll have to knock off your duck. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"All right." And the sport was on.

Ben poised his missile and carefully let fly.