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 shell peas, and she dumped the pods onto this scrap. 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 advertisement 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 bumped into Mr. Hartman himself, as they dashed breathlessly around the corner in search of him.

“Highty, tighty!” ejaculated 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 Saturday, 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.”

“You’ve got a pretty little farm there ”

“We can’t wear farms on our feet,” snapped Peace, moving off once more, but again he stopped them, for he was really in need of pickers in order to harvest his big crop of berries before they spoiled on the vines. “Well, now, I’ll tell you, kids, I will try you at picking, and ”

“Pay us five cents a box?”

“Yes, if you are good at the job. Come tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll begin now. This is Thursday, and that sale lasts only till Saturday. It might rain tomorrow, and ’sides, it might take us more’n a day.”

“Well, suit yourselves,” chuckled the man. “But be sure you do good work and don’t eat up the berries.”

So the two small sisters were soon busily engaged in picking the luscious red fruit and packing it in quart boxes, while the sun poured mercilessly down upon them. But they pluckily stuck to their post until the day was done, trying to forget the heat and dust in planning their trip to the big city, which they had visited so seldom. However, two long, thankful sighs escaped their dry lips when at length Gail’s horn tooted out the summons to the evening meal, and they hurried homeward as fast as their aching backs and tired feet would carry them, exultant though perspiring.

“Gracious!” murmured Cherry plaintively, as she bathed her hot face at the pump, “I never knew before how many berries it took to make a quart.”

“It would take lots more if we were picking wild strawberries. They ain’t bigger’n peas, but these are whoppers.”

“And covered thick with spiders ugh! I feel them crawling all over me now. I believe I killed a million just this afternoon.”

Peace laughed. They didn’t bother her. “Just s’posing those strawberries were bugs really, and when the hotel people ate them the bugs would bite. My, wouldn’t you like to hear them holler?”

“Why, Peace Greenfield!” cried Cherry in a shocked voice.

“Well, Hope was reading yesterday about some place where snakes coil up and look just like springs of water, and when thirsty people bend over to drink, the snakes bite them. There might be bugs somewhere that looked like strawberries so folks would try to eat them. Course I wouldn’t want them to hurt the people bad just enough to make them jump good.”

“I would rather have strawberries look like pennies ”

“I’d rather have them be pennies. Just think, if we could pick money off from strawberry vines! Everyone would start to raising strawberries, wouldn’t they? And how rich we would be! Never mind, we picked ten boxes of berries this afternoon that means a shoe apiece. We surely ought to get that many more by noon tomorrow. Let’s begin early so’s to pick as many as we can before it gets hot.”

So the morrow found them early in the field again, and by noon the second ten boxes were filled to the brim.

“There!” breathed Cherry in relief, mopping her crimson face on her sleeve as she surveyed the fruit of their labor. “We are done. Now we can get our shoes all right tomorrow. Why, what are you doing, Peace? Are you crazy?” For Peace had snatched up some empty boxes from another crate and was making her way between the green rows again.

“Nope,” answered the perspiring little maid. “I am just going to pick some more.”

“Well, I’m not!” was the emphatic reply, as Cherry started after the dusty figure plodding down the field. “I am nearly cooked now, and hungry as a bear. Come on home! We have picked enough to pay for our shoes, goosie. Or do you want two pair?”

Peace lifted her somber eyes from her self-appointed task and said briefly, “Yep for Allee.”

“For Allee?” echoed astonished Cherry. “You told me yourself that she didn’t need any new shoes.”

“Well, I didn’t think she did, but last night I ’xamined her only pair and they look awfully scrubby. There isn’t any more blacking in the house, and the ink I sopped onto them made them worse than ever. Besides, I it would look mean to get us some shoes and not any for her.”

Without another word, Cherry gathered up an armful of empty boxes and dropped down by a new row of vines, picking silently, ploddingly until at last the third ten had been filled. Then she spoke, “Is this all, or are you going to earn shoes for Hope and Faith and Gail? Because the afternoon is pretty well gone and ”

“Three pair of shoes is all I am going to pick,” interrupted Peace somewhat sharply, for she was hot and tired, and Cherry’s tone seemed to imply criticism. “Help me tote these crates up to the house now and we’ll get our pay.”

Mr. Hartman met them as they tugged the second crate, only half filled, up to the berry shed, and the spirit of mischief suddenly took possession of the usually stern, business-like farmer.

“So you have picked all you want to, have you? Well, I am surprised to think you would give up so soon. Here, hand me that box! I want to see what kind of pickers you are.” He hoisted the two crates to the corner of the fence surrounding one of his brooding pens, and pretended to examine each box critically, while the girls waited in anxious silence for his word of approval. “Hm!” he said at last, trying to frown, and succeeding so well that both little faces paled with misgiving. “Just as I expected! You don’t know how to pick strawberries. You don’t deserve a cent of pay. How much were you to get? Five cents a box?”

“Yes, sir,” whispered Peace, with lips so dry they could hardly form the words.

“Well, I oughtn’t to give you a penny, but I will be generous and live up to my part of the bargain. Five cents a box, was it? And there are two boxes and a half of fruit.”

His eyes were twinkling, but this Peace failed to notice, and she cried indignantly, “There are thirty boxes! We picked ten last night and twenty today.”

“Oh, those little boxes! Five cents a big box, I meant. That would be ten cents and half a nickel over; but I will be good and give you fifteen cents for your work.” He drew three battered coins from his pocket and dropped them into Peace’s damp, dirty hand.

She drew in her breath sharply, stared at the money for a moment in dumb amazement, then let it fly with all her might straight at Mr. Hartman’s head, screaming in a frenzy of anger and disappointment, “You numscullion of a cheat! Do you s’pose you will ever get to heaven? There are your old berries! You can hire your chickens to pick them up! I’ll never work for you again!” One shove of the crates, and the beautiful, tempting fruit lay in a scattered heap inside the chicken yard! And Peace, blinded by the hot tears of rage, was flying for home with dismayed Cherry close at her heels.

It was Mr. Hartman’s turn to stare, and stare he did, first at the spoiled fruit and then at the flying girls, too stunned to understand. The hot blood mounted to his forehead, he shook his fist in unreasoning anger and yelled, “Drat your pesky hides! Come back here and I’ll tan you good! What do you mean by spoiling all that high-priced fruit? Oh, if I just had my hands on you now!”

“You got only what you deserved, Dave Hartman,” said a quiet voice behind him, and he whirled angrily toward his wife, who had come upon the scene unnoticed.

“All I deserved! Twenty quarts of fruit spoiled! Four dollars’ worth, Myra Ann!”

“You should have been fair to the children and it never would have happened. They have worked hard and earned their money.”

“Fair! I meant to be fair. I was just fooling with them. If she hadn’t been quicker’n greased lightning she would have got all that was coming to her.”

“How was she to know that? You looked so ferocious I don’t wonder she took you at your word. The best thing you can do now is to rescue that fruit before the chickens have spoiled it entirely, and let me wash and can it. Then you better go over and pay the children for their work.”

“Pay the children a dollar and a half for spoiling four dollars’ worth of strawberries? Well, I should say not! They will never get another cent out of me, no matter if they go barefooted all the rest of their days.”