The little ones had no sooner reached the entrance of the favourite walk, than they scampered past Aunt Judy to run a race; but No. 6 stopped suddenly short.

“Aunt Judy, look at these horrible weeds!  Ah!  I do believe this is what you have brought us here for!”

It was indeed; for some showers the evening before, had caused them to flourish in a painfully prominent manner, and the favourite walk presented a somewhat neglected appearance.

So Aunt Judy marked it off for the little ones to weed, repeated the exhilarating promise of the half-farthings, and seated herself in the alcove to puzzle out the length of the fish.

At first it was rather amusing to hear, how even in the midst of their weeding, the little ones pursued their calculations of the anticipated half-farthings, and discussed the niceness and prices of the various descriptions of “goodies.”

But by degrees, less and less was said; and at last, the half-farthings and “goodies” seemed altogether forgotten, and a new idea to arise in their place.

The new idea was, that this weeding-task was uncommonly troublesome!

“I’m sure there are many more weeds in my piece than in anybody else’s!” remarked the tallest of the children, standing up to rest his rather tired back, and contemplate the walk.  “I don’t think Aunt Judy measured it out fair!”

“Well, but you’re the biggest, and ought to do the most,” responded No. 6.

“A little the most is all very well,” persisted No. 5; “but I’ve got too much the most rather—­and it’s very tiresome work.”

“What nonsense!” rejoined No. 6.  “I don’t believe the weeds are any thicker in your piece than in mine.  Look at my big heap.  And I’m sure I’m quite as tired as you are.”

No. 6 got up as she spoke, to see how matters were going on; not at all sorry either, to change her position.

“I’ve got the most,” muttered No. 8 to himself, still kneeling over his work.

But this was, it is to be feared, a very unjustifiable bit of brag.

“If you go on talking so much, you will not get any half-farthings at all!” shouted No. 4, from the distance.

A pause followed this warning, and the small party ducked down again to their work.

They no longer liked it, however; and very soon afterwards the jocose No. 5 observed, in subdued tones to the others:-

“I wonder what the little victims would have said to this kind of thing?”

“They’d have hated it,” answered No. 6, very decidedly.

The fact was, the little ones were getting really tired, for the fine May morning had turned into a hot day; and in a few minutes more, a still further aggravation of feeling took place.

No. 6 got up again, shook the gravel from her frock, blew it off her hands, pushed back a heap of heavy curls from her face, set her hat as far back on her head as she could, and exclaimed:-