THE GROOMING OF THE FARM 97 



first shock I explored the edges to see what 

 was left, but with no courage for picking. I 

 came home with an empty pail and a mind 

 severe. 



&quot;Jonathan,&quot; I said that night, &quot;I thought 

 you liked pies?&quot; 



&quot;I do,&quot; he said expectantly. 



&quot;Well, what do you like in them?&quot; 



&quot;Berries, preferably.&quot; 



&quot;Oh, I thought perhaps you preferred 

 cinders or dried briers.&quot; 



Jonathan looked up inquiringly, then a 

 light broke. &quot;Oh, you mean those blackberry 

 bushes. Did n t I tell you about that? That 

 was a mistake.&quot; 



&quot;So I thought,&quot; I said, unappeased. 



&quot;I mean, I did n t mean them to be cut. It 

 was that fool hobo I gave work to last week. 

 I told him to cut the brush in the lane. Idiot! 

 I thought he knew a blackberry bush!&quot; 



&quot;With the fruit on it, too,&quot; I added, re 

 lenting toward Jonathan a little. Then I 

 stiffened again. &quot;How about the huckleberry 

 patch? Was that a mistake, too?&quot; 



Jonathan looked guilty, but held himself 

 as a man should. 



