At the Little Brown House

  CHAPTER XII

  THE RASPBERRY PATCH

  One hot, dusty afternoon in midsummer Faith trudged wearily up the roadfrom the village, climbed the steps to the vine-covered piazza whereGail sat shelling peas, and dropped a handful of silver into hersister's lap, saying, "Three dollars clear from my cakes this week! WishI could make that much every time. Mrs. Dunbar was perfectly delightedwith my jelly roll, and has ordered another for next Saturday."

  "Isn't that fine!" smiled Gail. "You will have a bakery of your own someday if you keep on. I thought she would like the roll; it was the best Iever tasted."

  "I think I could find quite a few customers for them if I only had thejelly, but it costs so much to buy it, and all we have is that littlebit of apple jelly you made last summer."

  "The crab-apple trees are loaded with mites of green apples,"volunteered Cherry from the lower step, where she was makingcats-cradles with Allee.

  "Yes, but they won't be ripe for weeks yet; and, besides, a sour jellyis best for jelly rolls."

  "Do blackberries make sour jelly?" asked Peace, pausing in heroccupation of fitting paper sails to the empty pods Gail had dropped."Cause the creek road is just lined with bushes."

  "They are better than crab-apples, but it will be days before they areripe enough for use. I had thought of them, and investigated the bushesonly yesterday. Mrs. Grinnell says raspberries are best for thepurpose."

  "Lots of people around here have raspberries," said Peace.

  "And they want money for them, too."

  "Mr. Hardman doesn't pay any 'tention to his down in the pasture. I'vehelped myself there lots of times."

  "But his wife does. I saw her there this morning."

  Peace said no more, but, waiting until she saw their neighbor bring uphis cows to be milked, she slipped through the fence onto his land andaccosted him with the abrupt question, "How much will you take for therest of your raspberries?"

  "What?"

  She repeated her inquiry, and after scratching his head meditatively, heexclaimed, as if to himself, "Another money-making scheme! If she don'tbeat the Dutch!"

  "This is a jelly-making scheme," returned Peace, with comical dignity."There is no money in it."

  "Oh! Well, don't you know that raspberries are expensive?"

  "Most people's are, but you never paid any 'tention to yours, so Ithought you would be glad to get rid of them for little or nothing."

  "Oho!" he teased. "Begging again!"

  "I'm not!" Peace denied hotly. "I'll pay for them if you don't chargetoo high."

  "How much will you pay?"

  "I haven't any money, but I'll pick on shares."

  "Share and share alike?"

  "Yes; I'll keep half for my trouble, and you will get half for notrouble."

  Her method of figuring always amused him, and now he laughed outright,"Seems to me I am entitled to them all. They are my berries, you know."

  "Well," stormed Peace, "if that's the way you look at it, you can pick'em, too!"

  "Aw, don't get mad," he said soothingly. "I was just teasing. Of courseyou can pick all the raspberries you want. My wife said just thismorning that the bushes were loaded, and she couldn't begin to handlethem all herself. But--say--that reminds me--I've rented the pasture toold Skinner, and he's put his bull in there. You will have to watch yourchance when the old critter is out, to pick your berries."

  "All right," cried Peace, expressing her elation by hopping about on onefoot. "It's awfully nice of you to give us the berries you don't careto pick yourself, and we will see that the bull doesn't bother."

  She was half way across the field by the time she had finished speaking,eager to tell the good news to the girls; and before the dew was dry onthe grass the next morning, three sunbonneted figures scampered down theroad to Mr. Hartman's lower pasture, armed with big pails and Allee'sred wagon, intent on picking all the berries they could for Faith'sjelly.

  "We'll have to leave Allee's cart outside the fence," said Peace,climbing the high rails with astonishing agility and dropping nimblydown on the other side. "Do you see the Skinflint's bull anywhere?"

  "No," answered Cherry, taking a careful survey of the field from herperch on the top rail. "There isn't a thing stirring."

  "Then maybe we can pick all we want before the deacon brings him down.Hurry, and keep a sharp lookout for the old beast. My, but these bushesare stickery!"

  "I should say they are," Cherry agreed, ruefully eyeing her bleedinghands. "I don't believe it is going to be any fun picking raspberries.They are lots worse than blackberries."

  "S'posing we had been the prince who crawled through the hedge to wakeSleeping Beauty. I bet he got good and scratched up, but he kept righton and fin'ly kissed the princess awake."

  "There ain't any princess in these bushes," grumbled Cherry, pausing tosuck a wounded thumb.

  "No, but there are _berries_, and they are more important thanprincesses. We couldn't make jelly out of a princess, but we canout--Mercy, what was that noise?"

  "It's the bull! Run, run! There it comes down the hill!" shriekedCherry, standing as if rooted to the spot, and staring with horror atthe angry animal tearing across the pasture toward them.

  "Run yourself, you ninny!" screamed Peace, giving the older girl a push,and then scrambling for the fence with Allee dragging by one arm behindher.

  There was no time to climb over, and the lower rail was too close to theground for them to crawl under, but Peace did not linger to discuss thequestion. Grabbing the frightened baby by the heels, she thrust herbetween the slats, and gave her a shove that pitched her head first intoa stagnant mudhole just outside the fence. Then pausing only long enoughto see that Cherry was safely through, she followed, still clutching hernow empty pail, and landing beside Allee in the mud.

  "Whew! What a smell!" she spluttered, righting herself and trying to digher sister out of the pool. "And all on account of that miserable,cowardly bull! Why don't you take someone your own size to fight?" Sheshook her fist defiantly at the pawing, bellowing brute by the fence,and not satisfied with that method of expressing her anger, she flungthe empty bucket at his head, crying in frenzy, "Take that, you oldsinner! It b'longs to the berries you've already got."

  Her aim was truer than she had anticipated, and the pail fell with arattling clatter over the beast's ugly-looking horns, frightening him sothat for a brief moment he stood perfectly still. Then, with a snort offear and fury, he set off across the field at a mad gallop, with thebucket still tossing on his head.

  Peace glared angrily after the retreating enemy, too indignant over herloss to think of their peril until Cherry quavered, "Hadn't we betterrun while we have a chance? Suppose he should batter the fence down."

  "No danger," Peace muttered shortly; but she picked herself up from theground, where she was trying to scrape the ill-smelling mud off hershoes, and marched majestically up the road, trundling the cart behindher.

  "Where are you going?" cried Cherry, when they reached the first crossstreet. "Here's where we turn."

  "Turn, then! I'm going on to old Skinflint's house and tell him to keepthat ugly bull out of Hartman's pasture until we get those raspberriespicked."

  "With that nasty mud all over you?"

  "Mud and all," was the stubborn answer, and from force of habit, Cherryfell into step beside her again, tramping along in silence until theSkinner place was reached.

  It just happened that the old man himself was hurrying up the path fromthe barn as they approached, and Peace stopped him with an imperiouswave of her hand, speaking straight to the point before he could evenask her what she wanted.

  "Your bull won't let us pick raspberries in the lower pasture. Mr.Hartman said we might, but just when we got our pails 'most full, thatold thing had to come along and bunt at us. We skipped, but he made uslose all our berries. We'd like to have you tie him up or take him outuntil we can get those berries picked."

  The grouchy old fellow stood with open mouth, glaring at themud-
bespattered figures, as if he doubted his senses, and as Peacefinished her speech, he laughed mirthlessly, screeching in his harsh,cracked, rasping voice, "I put that bull in pasture myself, and there hestays! I don't do any tying up, either. I rented that field and it's thesame as mine for as long as I hire it. You can't have them berries atall. They are mine."

  "Mr. Hartman said we could have them," Peace insisted; "and I guess hewouldn't give away what didn't b'long to him. He may have rented thepasture to you, but he never rented the berries."

  Suddenly the old man changed tactics. "You can have all the berries youcan get," he taunted, shaking a warning finger in their faces, "but thatbull stays right there in that field!"

  "All right, old Skinflint!" roared Peace, forgetting everything else inher furious passion, and shaking an emphatic finger back at him. "Just'member that, will you? We'll get the berries in spite of your old_animule_!"

  She stamped out of the yard and down the road toward home once more,nursing her wrath and trying to think of some way whereby she might getthe disputed fruit, for she well knew that the deacon would do all hecould to prevent her now.

  Early the next morning she was at the pasture again, only to find thevicious enemy grazing close by, watching with wicked eyes every flirt ofher dress, as if defying her to gather the luscious red berries hangingso temptingly near.

  The second day it was the same, and the third. It looked as if the enemyhad conquered; but Peace was not to be easily defeated. She had set herheart on picking that fruit, and she meant to have it at any cost.

  The fourth morning, after reconnoitering and finding the bull still inundisputed possession of the field, an uncertain but daring thoughtdawned upon her busy brain, and when she returned home she casuallyasked Hope, "Didn't folks one time have bull fights in Africa?"

  "In Spain, you mean," answered the other, always ready to share hersmall store of knowledge. "Yes, they still have them, though it is verywicked."

  "How do they fight?"

  "Oh, I don't know exactly, but I think a man rides around a big ring onhorseback, flying a red flag until the bull is terribly mad, and then hehas to kill it with his dagger or get killed himself. It is terriblycruel, teacher says."

  "Why does the bull get mad at the flag?"

  "Because it is red, and they can't stand that color. Neither can turkeygobblers. Don't you remember you had on a red coat when Mr. Hartman'sgobbler chased you?"

  "Oh," said Peace, much enlightened. She had received the information shesought, and was content.

  "So the flag has to be red, does it?" she mused, as she stealthilyclimbed the stairs to the tiny, hot, cobwebby attic, where all thecast-off clothing was stored against a rainy day. "I thought it wassomething like that, but I didn't know for sure. There's an old reddress that b'longed to me, and here is my old flannel petticoat. I don'tb'lieve we will ever use this mess of cheesecloth again, either; it isso dreadfully streaked. But there is enough red in it yet."

  Gathering up an armful of worn-out garments, she crept down the stairwayonce more and slipped away to the lower pasture with her burden, wherefor the next half hour she might have been seen tying the scarlet stripsto the fence rails in the corner farthest from the raspberry patch. Whenthe last rag was fastened securely, she stepped back and viewed theresult of her labor, sighing in deep satisfaction, "There are twenty-onehunks in all. It ought to take him a good long time to tear them all topieces, and maybe if we work fast we can get most of the bushes strippedwhile he is banging his head down here."

  Hurrying home, she quietly summoned Cherry and Allee, and the trio setout once more on their berry-picking excursion, finding their enemy toobusy in the far end of the field to interfere with them, just as Peacehad hoped.

  "But he may come back here at any minute," argued Cherry, loth to enterthe field. "I thought you said he was gone from the pasture."

  "I said from the _berries_. Don't stop to talk. As long as he doesn'thear us, we are all right. We will pick close to the fence, so we canget out quick. There must be _tons_ of berries right here in this clump.Mercy, what a racket he makes!"

  Then how the nimble fingers flew, and how fast the deep-tinted fruitfell into the shining pails! But all the while the three pickers kepttheir eyes fastened on the grove of trees which hid the animal fromsight, and three hearts pounded fearfully at every snort of the enragedbrute.

  "Are you sure he is tied?" whispered cautious Cherry, after an unusuallyloud bellow had made her jump almost out of her shoes.

  "I didn't say he was tied. I said he wasn't apt to bother us thismorning. Keep still and pick with all your might. One of the big pailsin the wagon is full already."

  "But how do you know he will stay there if he isn't tied?" persistedCherry, glancing apprehensively toward the trees again.

  "He is too busy to think of coming over here now," Peace assured herconfidently, and that was all the satisfaction she could get, so shelapsed into silence, and worked like a beaver until the second bigbucket was brimming over. Then the small taskmaster drew a deep breathof relief and said graciously, "Now we will go home. These ought to makequite a little jelly. We must have as much as twenty quarts. They don'ttake as long as strawberries."

  Thankfully the sisters crawled through the fence and triumphantly boretheir precious burden homeward, still hearing in the distance the angrymutterings of Deacon Skinner's bull.

  "Just see the loads of berries we picked!" chorused three happy voices,as the rattling cart came to a standstill before the kitchen door.

  "Faith can have all the jelly she wants, and you can make the leftoverseeds up in jam, can't you?"

  "Children!" cried Gail, white to the lips. "Have you been in thatpasture with Mr. Skinner's ugly bull?"

  "Yes," they confessed, "but he never came near us."

  "I guess he didn't want to leave the grove," added Peace, marchingcomplacently away to wash her berry-stained hands.

  "Don't you ever go there again," commanded the oldest sister, stilltrembling with fright at what might have happened to the daring berrypickers, but she never thought to question them any further, and Peace'sprank remained a secret for a short time longer.

  The next day Deacon Skinner was early at the Hartman place, stalkingangrily up to the low, green house, and, striding into the kitchenwithout the formality of knocking, demanded fiercely, "What do you meanby plastering your fence all over with red rags? Your pasture fence?I'll sue you for damages! My bull has lost one horn and is all batteredto pieces, the rails are splintered, and it's a wonder he didn't getloose. Is that what you aimed at doing?"

  Mr. Hartman faced his accuser unflinchingly, saying, with quietemphasis, "I don't know anything about the matter. The fence was allright yesterday morning, for I was down there myself to see, before Ileft for town. You don't know what you are saying when you threaten tosue."

  "But the fence is all tied up with red rags," blustered the angryfellow. "How comes that? You rented me the--"

  "I rented you the pasture, but I didn't rent you watch dogs and dragonsto guard it. That is your own lookout. I had nothing to do with it, andit's no affair of mine if the village boys are up to their pranks."

  Mr. Hartman's air was convincing, and the deacon's wrath toward hisneighbor cooled somewhat when he saw how groundless were hisaccusations. Nevertheless, his ire was thoroughly aroused, and hepromised all sorts of punishment to the offenders when they were caught."If 'twas the village boys, I'll warrant the Judge's youngster was atthe head of it. I'll tan him till he can't stand when I get my hands onhim," he muttered.

  "You better make sure of the guilty one before you thrash him,"suggested Mr. Hartman, dryly.

  "That Abbott boy and the Greenfield girl are the ringleaders in all themischief--by George, she's the one that did it! She vowed she'd getthose berries, bull or no bull. If she has touched those bushes, I'll--"

  "No, you won't," interrupted the other man, rising to his feet with anangry light in his eyes. "If that child went to you and asked aboutth
ose bushes, you don't lay hands on her in any way."

  "She didn't ask. She came and told me to tie up the animal so she couldpick raspberries."

  "And you refused."

  "I rented that field, and you had no business to promise her theberries."

  "If you wanted them, why didn't you say so? They were going to waste onthe vines. You merely asked permission to put your animal in there for amonth while you were repairing your corral."

  "I didn't want the berries, but--"

  "That is all I care to know. You can take your property out of mypasture at once. I won't rent to such a man as you. Sue if you like, andsee what you will get in court."

  "Very well, Hartman," fumed the fiery-tempered old fellow. "But I willsettle even with you yet. Just remember that note of Lowe's, will you?It's apt to be called to your attention pretty soon in a way you won'tlike, I reckon, and you won't get a second's more time on it, either.You will find it ain't so funny to set up against _me_ in thisneighborhood!"

  The irate man stormed out of the house, still shaking his fistthreateningly, and Mr. Hartman, in a very disturbed state of mind,returned to his breakfast.