# Dandelion Cottage/Chapter 15

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CHAPTER XV
More Trouble With Laura
THE Milligan matter, however, was not by any means ended. It was true that the girls paid no further attention to Laura but this did not deter that rather vindictive small person from annoying the little cottagers in every way that she possibly could, although she was afraid to work openly.
As Laura knew, the girls took great pride in their little garden. Bettie's good-natured big brother Rob had offered to take care of their tiny lawn and he kept it smooth and even. The round pansy bed daily yielded handfuls of great purple, white or golden blossoms; the thrifty nasturtiums were beginning to bloom with creditable freedom, and many of the different, prettily ​foliaged little plants in the long bed near the Milligan's fence were opening their first curious, many-coloured flowers.
Some of the vegetables were positively getting radishes and carrots on their roots, as Bettie put it. The pride of the vegetable garden, however, was a huge, rampant vine that threatened to take possession of the entire yard. There was just the one plant, no one knew where the seed came from or how it managed to get itself planted, but there it was, close beside the back fence. For want of a better name, the girls called it "The Accident," and they expected wonderful things from it when the great yellow trumpet-shaped flowers should give place to fruit, although they didn't know in the least what kind of a crop to look for. But this made it all the more delightful.
"Perhaps it'll be pumpkins," said Jean. "I guess I'd better hunt up a recipe for pumpkin pie, so's to be ready when the time comes."
​"Or those funny, pale yellow squashes that are scalloped all around the edge like a dish," said Marjory.
"Or cucumbers," said Bettie. "I took Mrs. Crane a leaf, one day, and she said it might be cucumbers."
"Or water-melons," said Mabel. "Um-m! wouldn't it be grand if it should happen to be water-melons."
"What I'm wondering is," said Jean, "if there's any danger of the vine's going around the house and taking possession of the front yard, too. I can almost believe that this a seedling of Jack's beanstalk except that it runs on the ground instead of up."
"If it tries to go around the corner," laughed Bettie, "we'll train it up the back of the house. Wouldn't it be fun to have pumpkins, or squashes, or cucumbers, of melons, or maybe all of them at once, growing on our roof?"
The day after Mrs. Milligan's visit, ​Laura, who was not invited to the party, and who found time heavy on her hands, watched the girls, after stopping for Marjory, set out in their pretty summer dresses to spend the afternoon at their young friend's house. Laura gazed after them enviously. There was no reason why she should have been invited for she had never met the little girl that was giving the party, but she didn't think of that. Instead, she foolishly laid the unintentional slight at the little cottagers' door.
Mrs. Milligan was sewing on the doorstep and had given Laura a dishtowel to hem. Saying something about hunting for a thimble, Laura went to the kitchen, took the bread-knife from the table drawer, stole quietly out of the back door, and slipped between the bars of the back fence. Reaching the splendid vine that the girls loved so dearly, she parted the huge, rough leaves until she found the spot where the vine started from the ground. First looking ​about cautiously to make certain that no one was in sight, spiteful Laura drew the knife back and forth across the thick stem until, with a sudden, sharp crack, the sturdy vine parted from its root.
Two minutes later, Laura, looking the picture of propriety, sat on the Milligan's doorstep hemming her dishtowel.
Of course, when the girls made their next daily excursion about their garden they were almost broken-hearted at finding their beloved vine flat on the ground, all withered and dead.
"Oh," mourned Marjory, "now we'll never know what 'The Accident' was going to bear, pumpkins or squashes or——"
"Yes," said Mabel, who was blinking hard to keep the tears back, "that's the hardest part of it, it was cut off in its p-prime—Oh dear, I guess I'm g-going to cry."
"What could have done it?" asked Bettie, who was not far from following ​Mabel's example. "Has anyone stepped on it?"
"Perhaps a potato bug ate it off," suggested Jean.
"A two-legged potato bug, I guess," said Marjory, who had been examining the ground carefully. "See, here are small sharp heel prints close to the root."
"Whose handkerchief is this?" asked Mabel, picking up a small tightly crumpled ball and unrolling it gingerly. "There's a name on it but my eyes are so teary I can't make it out."
"It looks like Milligan," said Bettie, turning it over, "but we can't tell how long it's been here."
"Horrid as she is," said charitable Jean, "it doesn't seem as if even Laura would do such a mean thing. I can't believe it of her."
"I can," said Mabel. "If she had a squash vine, or a pumpkin vine, I'd go straight over and spoil it this minute."
​"No, no," said Jean, "we mustn't be horrid just because other folks are. We won't pay any attention to her—we'll just be patient."
The girls found four small, oval, green egg-like objects growing on the withered vine; they cut them off and these, too, were laid tenderly away in their treasure boxes.
"When we get old," said Mabel, tearfully, "we'll take 'em out and tell our grandchildren all about 'The Accident.'"
But even this prospect did not quite console the girls for the loss of their treasure.
For the next few days, Laura remained contented with doing on the sly whatever she could to annoy the girls. One evening, when the girls had gone home for the night and while her mother was away from home, Laura threw a brick at one of the cottage windows, breaking a pane of glass. Reaching in through the hole, she scattered handfuls of sand on the clean floor that the girls had scrubbed that morning. Another night ​she emptied a basketful of potato parings on their neat front porch and daubed molasses on their doorknob, mean little tricks prompted by a mean little nature.
It was very little fun, however, to annoy persons who refused to show any sign of being annoyed, and Laura presently changed her tactics. Taking a large bone from the pantry, one day, when the girls were sitting on their doorstep, she first showed it to Towser, the Milligan dog, and then threw it over the fence into the very middle of the pansy bed. Of course, the big clumsy dog bounded over the low fence after the bone, crushing many of the delicate pansy plants. After that at regular intervals, Laura threw sticks and other bones into the other beds with very much the same result.
The next time Rob cut the grass he noticed the untidy appearance of the beds and asked the reason. The girls explained.
"I'll shoot that dog if you say so," offered Rob, with honest indignation.
​"No, no," said Bettie, "it isn't the dog's fault."
"No," said Jean, "we're not sure that the dog isn't the least objectionable member of the Milligan family.
"How would it do if I licked the boy?" asked Rob.
"It wouldn't do at all," replied Bettie. "He works some place day times and never even looks in this direction when he's home. He's afraid of girls."
"Then I guess you'll have to grin and bear it," said Rob, moving off with the lawn-mower, "since neither of my remedies seems to fit the case."