"And they want money for them, too." "Mr. Hardman doesn't pay any 'tention to his down in the pasture. I've helped 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 up his cows to be milked, she slipped through the fence onto his land and accosted him with the abrupt question, "How much will you take for the rest of your raspberries?" "What?" She repeated her inquiry, and after scratching his head meditatively, he exclaimed, as if to himself, "Another money-making scheme! If she don't beat 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 I thought 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 charge too 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 no trouble." 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 course you can pick all the raspberries you want. My wife said just this morning that the bushes were loaded, and she couldn't begin to handle them all herself. But--say--that reminds me--I've rented the pasture to old Skinner, and he's put his bull in there. You will have to watch your chance when the old critter is out, to pick your berries." "All right," cried Peace, expressing her elation by hopping about on one foot. "It's awfully nice of you to give us the berries you don't care to 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 on the grass the next morning, three sunbonneted figures scampered down the road to Mr. Hartman's lower pasture, armed with big pails and Allee's red wagon, intent on picking all the berries they could for Faith's jelly. "We'll have to leave Allee's cart outside the fence," said Peace, climbing the high rails with astonishing agility and dropping nimbly down on the other side. "Do you see the Skinflint's bull anywhere?" "No," answered Cherry, taking a careful survey of the field from her perch 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 bushes are stickery!"