BERRY-PICKING.
It would be tedious to recount who ate the most fruit on the occasion
of Aunt Marian's grand garden-party, while it is our duty and
pleasure to give the name of the one who gathered the most, and of
the one who became also the happy possessor of Aunt Marian's prize.
All the morning it seemed doubtful who would be the winner, as all
hands seemed to work with an almost equal zeal, and only those whose
fingers were smaller, and whose skins were more susceptible to
thorns, had less in their cans than the others; but as luncheon time
drew near, and hunger began to assert itself, there was a visible
diminution of work, and some of the cans even grew less full, as
their owners found it more convenient and satisfactory to help
themselves from the gathered fruit. It was about this time that
Harry found himself close to Kathleen, having deserted his own class
of fruit for a very promising bush of gooseberries, which bade fair
to satisfy his hunger at a greater rate than any of the others.
"How have you got on, Katy?" he asked, with his mouth full of large
amber gooseberries, while he knelt down under the tree the better to
enjoy his meal. "Pooh, is that all?" craning his neck across the
bush and looking into his sister's can; "I expect you have been
devouring largely."
"You expect wrong, then," she answered rather hotly; "I have not
tasted a single one. I made a promise to myself that I would not
taste one until I had filled my can up to that mark, and I want ages
of reaching it still;" and, as Kathleen spoke, she pointed to a line
scratched round the middle of the can, so as to divide the inside
into two equal portions.
"My eyes, do you mean to say you have not tasted any fruit at all,
all this time?"
"Not one pick."
"And you have only gathered that little dab at the bottom of the can?"
"It is not a little dab; it's a whole lot."
"Well, all I can say is the others have gathered twice as much: you
must have been star-gazing, or perhaps you went to sleep."
"I did nothing of the kind, but it's so awfully hard to gather
raspberries: they all go squash the moment you take hold of them, and
they look so awfully flat when you put them into the can; and
besides, there are so few really ripe. I have gone round and round
the bushes, and could scarcely find any."
"Because, you little donkey, you have chosen nearly the worst spot in
the whole garden: if you will come with me I'll give you a share of
my bushes, and they are the most golliferous ones in the place; not a
soul has found them out but myself, and it's such a rare good plant
my can is half full already."
"Where is your can?"
"It is hidden under a lot of cauliflowers; I only came here for a
graze, and I'm going back at once."
"Are you sure there are enough for us both?"
"Millions and billions."
"Oh, delightful!" sighed poor Kathleen, whose little flushed face and
scratched hands showed how hard she had worked. "It's awfully kind
of you, Harry."
"Humbug; but sit down, I say, and have a grub with me at these
ambers. They are the grandest chaps in all creation; not a bone in
their bodies, and bursting with delicious juice. They are rare
fellows, I can tell you, if you only tried them."
"No," said Kathleen, shaking her head; "I promised not to take any."
"Promised your fiddlesticks," cried Harry contemptuously, while he
filled his mouth with five or six yellow monsters; "whom did you
promise?"
"I promised myself."
"Ha, ha, ha! promised yourself," roared Harry; "why, you ought to
know by this time, I should think, that you are nobody, and therefore
if you promised nobody you are not bound to keep your word. Here,
taste this one--it's a real beauty, a savoury morsel, I can tell
you;" and Harry held up an amber through which the sun shone
temptingly.
"No, thank you; I'd rather not."
"Well, have it your own way," cried Harry. "I made no promise to
myself or any one else, so here goes;" and he transferred the
gooseberry to his own mouth. "Do you know these are filling animals
at the price; I've nearly had as much as I care for, and the wasps
are all buzzing about me like mad."
"Then come on, that's a good boy, and show me where I am to go on
gathering."
"All serene;" and Harry rose from his position underneath the bush,
leaving a mound of empty skins to mark out to future comers the
halting-place of a hungry spirit; and then, taking Kathleen's can in
one hand, and thrusting the other through his sister's arm, he walked
leisurely on towards the "rare good plant" he had told her of.
"We had better dodge a bit as we go past the walks," he whispered;
"for if the other chaps scented our trail they would be down on us
like winkin. Here, duck down beyond these bushes, and we shall be
past the whole lot of them in a minute."
Kathleen ducked down as she was told, and following in her brother's
footsteps, soon found herself in quite a grove of raspberry bushes,
every one of which was covered with ripe red fruit, and on which even
Harry's ravages had not as yet made themselves visible.
"Here we are now," he cried, "in a perfect paradise of rasps. Ain't
I a knowing dog to have found out such a choice spot for work?"
"Indeed you are," said Kathleen gratefully. "I'm awfully obliged to
you for showing it to me."
"Nonsense; you just go ahead now and pick away like fun, and I'll
tell you what I'll do. I'll just put a few of my rasps into your
can, so as to give you a good start."
"Oh no, please don't;" but Harry was too excited to hear her refusal,
and was already busy searching among the tall cauliflowers for his
hidden can.
"Well, that's the rummest thing I ever saw!" he cried presently in
great surprise. "I left my can under this very white-headed chap
here, and it's gone now. I counted him down from the wall, and he
was number six on the first left-hand row; and now it's nowhere to be
found."
"Let me help you. I am sure it is somewhere," cried Kathleen,
instantly deserting her can to come to her brother's help. "Are you
certain it was under the cauliflowers you hid it?"
"Just as certain as that you are standing there. I marked this
particular 'cauli' because I thought it looked the image of a white
nigger's pate; and what's more, there is the mark of the can in the
soft clay; look for yourself."
Kathleen, who was at the distance of some rows, came jumping over
them quickly to see the confirmation of Harry's assertion; but as she
leaped over the last row her foot struck against something hard,
which gave a sharp metallic ring.
"That's it," cried Kathleen. "I'm certain that was your can I
knocked against there. It was very well I did not upset it and all
the fruit into the bargain."
It was Harry's can, and no mistake; he knew it by its label, on the
back of which, to avoid mistakes, he had scratched his own name.
"Well, how on earth did the beggar get there?" said he meditatively.
"I am as certain as ever I was of anything in my life that I did not
put it there. Let's see," he added with a curious whistle, which
expressed better than words the dawning of some new idea--"let's see
if any one has been poaching on my preserves;" and he raised the two
green leaves which covered the gathered fruit. "Ay, just so--just
what I suspected; somebody has been prigging out of my can. It was
up to this mark here when I left it"--and he pointed to a little
cross which he had scratched with a stone--"and now it's down below
zero. I do say it's a howling shame."
"Who could have done it?" asked Kathleen, with widely-opened eyes of
horror.
"That's more than I can tell. There was not a soul saw me go up this
path except Fred, who had found a splendid 'plant' for himself.
Well, come along--life's too short for getting into passions; and,
besides, I am too like the fat boy in Punch to be up for much
fighting, for I do feel uncommonly as if my jacket were buttoned.
Here"--he added, taking up the can and carrying it over to the
raspberry bushes--"let me shy all I've got into your can, and I'll
give up the chivy altogether."
"Indeed you must not; you've a splendid lot there. Go on, and it
will soon be quite full."
"Not I; it's too much bother. Of course, whoever helped themselves
out of my can will win the day; unless, indeed, you let me fill yours
up with what remains of mine, and we'll outwit the dishonest old
fellows with their own weapons. I'd like to see him, or her, whoever
it was, well thrashed. Here, hold your can."
"No; I would much rather go on gathering for myself."
"Why?" asked Harry, holding his can already poised over his sister's.
"Oh! because it would be awfully unfair. We were each to fill our
own,--Aunt Marian said so; and, besides, you'll lose the prize if you
do."
"But suppose I want you to win it. I don't care a straw whether I
get it or not, and I'd like you awfully to have it."
"I know you would, and it's tremendously good-natured of you, Harry;
but, indeed, indeed, it would not be fair. I would much rather
gather them all myself."
"Well, if you ain't the greatest stickler about trifles I ever met!
However, I think myself you're pretty near right for all that. So do
you pick away as hard you can, and I'll gather a few more; for I
should not quite like Aunt Marian to think I was too greedy to care
about her jam."