"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."