Mr. Mime nods emphatically. It's sure. In fact, it holds a single finger up in a 'wait here' gesture and goes back to the place where the shovel was previously leaning. There's a satchel too, on the ground.

"Mime!" Mr. Mime opens the satchel and offers it to Radar for inspection. Inside sit neat stacks of envelopes, each carefully labeled in Mr. Starr's steady cursive. The one on top reads wheat, the next one down says mint, then apple, lemon, pumpkin, and so on. It seems the Starrs had plans to expand beyond the orchard or, at the very least, Mr. Starr was storing seed reserves away for a rainy day. They are all offered now to Radar, to carry on the legacy.