"Well, your mother canned some of that," answered his father, "that is the
sweet kind. The yellow ears I will show you how to save for the chickens
this winter, and there is another kind--well, I'll tell you about that a
little later," and he smiled at the children.
"Oh, have I got three kinds of corn?" asked Hal, clapping his hands in
delight.
"We'll see when we come to harvest it," said Daddy Blake.
"Maybe I'll win the prize with that!" exclaimed the little boy. "Come on,
Mab! Let's go in and look at the ten dollar gold piece. I hope I win it!"
"I hope you do, too, Hal," said his sister. "But I'd like it myself, and
I've got a awful lot of beans. My vines are covered with them--I mean
dried ones, in pods like peas."
"I wish we could both have the prize," said Hal. "But if I win I'll give
you half, Mab."
"So will I to you!" exclaimed the little girl.
As they ran toward the house they saw a farmer, from whom their mother
often bought things, standing on the porch. In his hand he held what
looked to be a big whip. There was a long wooden handle and fast to it was
a shorter stick of wood.
"There's the flail I told Mr.
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