"And my beans are all trampled down," wailed Mab.
"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.
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