That afternoon I mixed a heaping tablespoonful of the hellebore through the contents of the watering-can, on which I had painted the word "Poison." With this infusion I sprinkled thoroughly every bush on which I could find a worm, and the next morning we had the pleasure of finding most of these enemies dead. But some escaped or new ones were hatched, and we found that we could save our currants only by constant vigilance. Every evening, until the fruit was nearly ripe, we went over the bushes, and gave the vile little pests a dose wherever we found them. Our other can I also labelled "Poison," with dashes under it to show that it was to be used for Paris green alone. A teaspoonful of this deadly agent was enough, according to my book, for the amount of water held by the ordinary wooden pail. I kept this poison out of Bobsey's reach, and, indeed, where no one but myself could get at it, and, by its aid, destroyed the potato beetles and their larvae also. Whatever may be true in other parts of the world, in our region, certainly, success can be secured only by prompt, intelligent effort. CHAPTER XXXII CHERRIES, BERRIES, AND BERRY-THIEVES An evening or two after this we were taught that not even in our retired nook had we escaped the dangers of city life. Winnie and Bobsey, in their rambles after strawberries, had met two other children, and, early in the acquaintance, fortunately brought them to the house. The moment I saw the strange girl, I recognized a rural type of Melissa Daggett, while the urchin of Bobsey's age did not scruple to use vile language in my hearing. I doubt whether the poor little savage had any better vernacular. I told them kindly but firmly that they must not come on the place again without my permission. After supper I went over and asked Mr. Jones about these children, and he replied, significantly, looking around first to make sure that no one heard him: "Mr. Durham, steer clear of those people. You know there are certain varmints on a farm to which we give a wide berth and kill 'em when we can. Of course we can't kill off this family, although a good contribution could be taken up any day to move 'em a hundred miles away. Still about everybody gives 'em a wide berth, and is civil to their faces. They'll rob you more or less, and you might as well make up your mind to it, and let 'em alone." "Suppose I don't let them alone?" "Well--remember, now, this is wholly between ourselves--there's been barns burned around here. Everybody's satisfied who sot 'em afire, but nothin' can be proved. Your cow or horse, too, might suddenly die. There's no tellin' what accidents would happen if you got their ill-will."