The Song of the Winns
“found Alice and Alex at Fiercely Jones’s shed, bleary-eyed.
“Sleep well, did you? Straw pallets cozy enough for you, were they? Heh heh heh.” The gardener’s mirthless chuckle suggested that he was not displeased at the notion of their discomfort. “I’ve got a job that will wake you right up, don’t you worry.”
He led them ’round to the back of the shed, where they were greeted by the foulest stench ever to assault Alice’s nose. Whatever it was, there was a pile of it that looked almost equal to the shed itself in size.
“What—what is it?” she choked out, after she regained her breath.
“Fertilizer,” said Fiercely Jones.
“Fertilizer?”
“Manure. And you’re going to shovel it.” He pointed to two shovels. “Shift it.” He pointed to a wheelbarrow. “Then spread it.” He flicked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Spread it where?” Alex gasped, holding his nose.
“On the two hundred and thirty-eight garden beds we’ll be replanting.”
“Two hundred and thirty-eight garden beds?”
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