CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
FRITZ GOES HUNTING.
After his last remark, Eric, silent for a little while, as if buried in deep thought, followed behind his brother to the garden patch, which was found in the most flourishing state.
The potatoes were all in full flower and the haulms of sturdy growth promised well for the crop of tubers beneath, some indeed being already half withered, as if fit for digging; while pods were thick on the two rows of peas planted, and the scarlet runners were a mass of bloom and brilliancy.
At such a glorious sight, Eric could remain silent no longer.
"This is capital," he exclaimed in high delight; "why, we've got a regular harvest, brother!" "Yes, the great Mother Earth has rewarded our exertions," said Fritz thoughtfully.

"It is wonderful how she yields to those who cultivate her properly! I can see that we'll have bushels of potatoes--enough to last us through the winter." "Aye, and peas and beans, too," chorussed Eric.

"Look, here, at this lot, Fritz! I believe we can have a dish of them to-day." "What, to keep up the festival with ?" said his brother, smiling.

"I see you are still thinking of that; but, methinks, green peas at Christmas will be rather an anachronism!" "Hang the what-do-you-call-it--oh, anachronism!" cried the lad impulsively.

"When we're at Rome we must do as Rome does." "I don't remember, though, that the citizens of `The city on the seven hills' ate peas in December, as far as my reading of the classics go," remarked Fritz ironically.
He liked to "pick up" his brother sometimes in fun.
"Ah, that was because they were pagans, and didn't keep up our Christmas ceremonies!" cried Eric triumphantly.