At the Little Brown House Part 4

"Oh, mamma is good as gold! But two sure-enough angels in one family is too many, 'specially when it's the mother and father. Don't you think so?"

Poor man! What could he say? But at that moment came a timely interruption in the shape of Miss Dunbar with a huge platter loaded with gla.s.ses of lemonade; and as she spied the two figures in the little recess, she exclaimed, "Why, Mr. Strong, we've been hunting all over the building for you. What an effective screen those brakes and columbines make! None of us thought of finding you here. Peace, you are very quiet this evening. Would you like some lemonade? Have you had refreshments, Mr. Strong? The committee is looking for you to make arrangements for Sunday's meetings."

"I will be there in a moment, Miss Dunbar. Good-night, little Peace, I see your sisters beckoning to you. When the parsonage is ship-shape I want you to come and see us. Will you?"

"You bet!" was the prompt and emphatic reply, as Peace skipped happily away to join her sisters, forgetting, in her gladness, that neither Hope nor Charity had brought her any cake to eat with her lemonade.

CHAPTER III

SHOES AND STRAWBERRIES

"Cherry! Cherry Greenfield!" called Peace, imperatively, flapping a newspaper vigorously, as if to add emphasis to her summons.

"Here," drawled a lazy voice from the great elm by the road. "What do you want? I am busy."

"You are reading, that's what!" exclaimed her sister in disgust, as she came within sight of the slender, brown legs swinging among the thickly-leaved branches. "Shut up that book and listen to me. I've got some portentious"--she meant important--"news. Cameron's Shoe Store advertises shoes at forty-nine cents. That means a pair, doesn't it?

They wouldn't sell them separately, would they,--'cepting to one-legged people? And the sale lasts the whole week."

"Well, what of it?" asked Cherry, impatiently opening her book once more; but Peace had scrambled up into the leafy retreat by this time, and she thrust a ragged newspaper page into her sister's hands, crying, "What of it? Why, Charity Greenfield, you were saying just this morning that you'd have to have some new shoes pretty quick or go barefooted on Sundays. How would you like that? And mine are 'most worn out, too."

"Well, I can't help it if we must have shoes. Gail says there won't be any extra money this month. It took all she had to pay up Mike, so she could let him go. Besides, this paper says they are canvas shoes. Those wouldn't last us any time. Faith says we ought to have cow-hide--"

"Yes, that sounds just like her. She is always saying something cross.

She ought to be thankful that we don't wear our shoes out any faster.

S'posing we didn't have any summer so we could go barefooted, or s'posing we had as many legs as a spider, and had to buy a dozen pair of shoes each time. I guess _that_ would take money! Aren't canvas shoes the things Nellie Banker had? Hers wore an awfully long time and she put them on every day, too."

"Well, I don't see how that helps us any if we haven't got the money.

Cameron's Shoe Store is in Martindale, too. Where did you get this paper?"

"I've been helping Mrs. Grinnell sh.e.l.l peas, and she dumped the pods onto this sc.r.a.p. When I saw 'shoes forty-nine cents,' I asked her if it meant sure-enough shoes for that little, and she said it did, and that any time we wanted to get things in town at a sale when she was going in, we could drive along with her."

"But the money--"

"Can't we earn it? I heard Mr. Hardman tell the butcher that he needed someone to help pick his late strawberries, and he'll pay five cents a quart. We've often picked strawberries, and it isn't very hard work--just hot and mon-mon--I can't think of the rest of that word."

"It's just as well," answered Cherry, with unconscious sarcasm. "'Twas likely wrong anyway. Do you mean to say you would pick berries for Mr.

Hartman, when you hate him so?"

"Why not--if he will have us? His money is just as good as any other man's, ain't it? Only he's mighty stingy."

"That's just it! I don't believe you heard him right. He'll never pay five cents a quart for picking berries, Peace. Now, if it was Judge Abbott or Mrs. Grinnell--Why, strawberries are cheap!"

"Not now, when they are 'most gone. And, besides, he told the butcher that one of the big hotels in Martindale pays him twenty cents a quart for all he will bring them. It's a special kind, you see, splendid big ones, that only rich folks can 'ford to eat."

Cherry swung her feet thoughtfully as she read the alluring advertis.e.m.e.nt once more, and pondered the question of such importance to both little girls, but she ventured no reply.

"Well?" said Peace, sharply, after some moments of impatient silence.

"It's awfully hot to pick berries in the sun all day," yawned Cherry, fingering her book longingly.

Peace snorted in disgust, and seizing the precious paper from her sister's lap, she swung nimbly to the ground and started off across the meadow on the other side of the fence.

"Wait, Peace! Where are you going?" cried Cherry, scrambling off her perch, thoroughly awake now.

"To pick me a pair of shoes in Mr. Hardman's strawberry patch," answered Peace, quickening her pace.

"Oh, don't hurry so fast. I'll go, too. But s'posing he won't let us pick berries for him?"

"I ain't s'posing any such thing. We've picked strawberries before. Why, Allee knows how. Anyone with sense can do a thing like that!"

"Is--are you going to take Allee along if he should give us the job?"

"No, her shoes will last a long time yet. She doesn't need any new ones."

By this time they had reached the long, low, green house on the farm adjoining theirs, and almost b.u.mped into Mr. Hartman himself, as they dashed breathlessly around the corner in search of him.

"Highty, tighty!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the startled man, leaping aside to avoid a collision. "What are you young rapscallions doing over here? You better make tracks for home."

"Ramscallion yourself," Peace burst out hotly, nursing a stubbed toe and winking rapidly to keep the tears back. "We've come to pick your strawberries."

"You have, eh? Well now, what if I won't let you?"

"Then we'll go home. Come, Cherry!" Grabbing her sister's hand, she marched angrily toward the road, but he called after her, "What will you pick berries for?"

"Five cents a quart," she replied briefly, not looking around or slackening her gait in the least.

He chuckled. "Huh! Your price is pretty steep."

"'Pends upon how you look at it," she flung back at him. "You pay that to other folks, and we can pick as good as anyone. Mrs. Grinnell always--"

"Mrs. Grinnell's berries are only scrubs."

"Scrubs have to be picked carefully so's not to squash them."

He laughed outright, and Peace marched on with head high and cheeks aflame with anger.

Before she had reached the road, however, he stopped her by saying, "What do you want to pick berries for this hot weather?"

"For money. We want some shoes. Cameron's are selling canvas shoes for forty-nine cents a pair all this week, and Mrs. Grinnell is going in town Sat.u.r.day, and we could drive with her--s'posing we could earn enough for the shoes."

"Why don't your ma buy some?"

"Mother's sick and Gail hasn't any money."