THE STRAWBERRY GARDEN. 141 



away her skirts, gravely began tc eat cake and pick berries 

 at the same time. 



Mary stood beside her irresolute, and with keen eyes 

 watching furtively the path over the green field beyond the 

 stone wall. 



" If he should come now ! I almost hope he will not." 

 This to herself. 



u Kate, I must say, you are the strangest girl I ever met. 

 In sober earnest, tell me what you mean." 



" Money." 



"Money!" 



" Yes, scrip, stamps, cash. Here you find it for the 

 picking." 



" I really don't understand." . 



' ' You are dull, my love. Come, be a dear, and help me 

 fillnhis pail." 



Mary stood for a moment on the walk, undecided whether 

 to run away, or do something else. 



What else could she do ? To run away, and refuse to 

 aid her good-natured sister, would be unkind, at least. To 

 set to work picking berries would expose her to a disagree- 

 able degradation, in somebody's eyes, should they chance 

 to see. Would he, the aristocratic young man, ever forgive 

 her, if he found her at work in the garden ? Would he 

 not be shocked, and beat a retreat with no returning? 

 Would he not despise her red fingers and old tin pail ? 



Vanities of vanities ! The complaint of an anxious mind. 



