“Never mind,” consoled Uncle Pennywait.  “They’ll still grow, even if the vines are not as nice as before.  A wind storm would have made them look the same way.”

“And as long as both your crops are damaged, and each about the same amount,” said Daddy Blake to Hal and Mab, “you will still be even for winning the prize of ten dollars in gold.  That is if Uncle Pennywait doesn’t get ahead of you,” he added with a sly wink at Aunt Lolly’s husband.

Hal and Mab hurried to look mere closely at their garden plots.  Hal found, just as he had after the hail storm, that, fey hoeing dirt higher around his hills of corn he could make some of the stalks that had been trampled down, stand up straight.  And Mab’s beans could also be improved.

“But the cows certainly ate a lot of green peas,” said Daddy Blake with a sigh as he looked at the place where they had been growing.  “Still I’d rather have them spoiled than the potatoes, as peas are easier to get in Winter than are potatoes—­at least for us.”

The cows wandered up and down the village street until their owner and some of his men came for them.  Then, when the milkman heard how his animals had damaged Mr. Blake’s garden, an offer of payment was made.

Some of Daddy Blake’s neighbors told what they thought the milkman should pay, and he did.  He said he was very sorry his cows had made so much trouble, and hereafter, he said, he would see that they did not break out of their pasture.

“I saw them in your garden, Mr. Blake, as soon as I got up,” said Mr. Porter.  “I arose earlier than I usually do as I wanted to hoe my lima beans before I went to work.  I thought I’d call you before the cows ate everything.”

“I’m glad you did,” spoke Hal’s father.  “We saved most of the garden, anyhow.”

It took two or three days of hard work in the Blake garden until it looked as nicely as it had done before the cows broke in.  Even then the pea vines were only about half as many in number as at first, and they had been delicious, sweet peas, that Mother Blake had counted on serving at many meals.

“But I guess the cows enjoyed them as much as we did,” she said.  “Anyhow there is no use in worrying over what can’t be helped.”

“Did the cows hurt the egg plants?” asked Aunt Lolly.

“No, they didn’t get in that part of the garden,” answered Mrs. Blake.  “I think well have some for dinner.”

“What—­Cows or egg plant?” asked Uncle Pennywait, winking his left eye at Mab as he made this joke.

“Egg plant, of course!” laughed Mrs. Blake.  “Suppose you go bring one in for me, Uncle Pennywait.”

“We’ll come, too!” cried Hal and Mab, while the little girl, as she took hold of her uncle’s hand, asked: 

“Is there really an egg plant?  I thought hens laid eggs, and we haven’t any hens in our garden.”

“There is a plant named egg,” Uncle Pennywait said.  “I’ll show you some.  It’s down in the far end of the garden.”