“That is my Brazilian trunk,” she remarked. “I am taking my furs there, because I am sure they will be quite unusual in Brazil, and a newcomer, you know, must make an impression at once.” “So you’ve decided to go to Brazil, Aunt Cora,” Harriot said. “I wonder what kind of things they have to eat in Brazil,” she added dreamily. “I don’t really know,” her aunt replied quite seriously, “but I am quite sure they must be delicious, or we would have heard of it. Haven’t you often noticed how people like to tell you about the awful things they have to put up with on their travels? I have, and yet never have I heard a complaint about Brazil; so I have concluded it must be a most ideal spot.” Dorothea chuckled. “Yes, that’s so,” she said; “People are always telling you about the garlic in Italy and the smelly cheese in Norway, and—” “And the rats in China,” Harriot put in, not to be outdone. “Exactly,” Mrs. Stewart responded; “so, in my Mexican trunks, I am putting a few simple necessities in the food line.” She selected some packages of groceries and settled them in another of the trunks. “Of course you know I can’t live on the beans and peppery things that Mexicans eat.” “But you aren’t going to _both_ Mexico and Brazil?” Dorothea asked, her eyes opening in surprise. “Of course not,” Mrs. Stewart replied with considerable pride. “That’s where my foresight comes in. I don’t know which place I may finally decide to select, so I am packing for _both_.” At this announcement the girls exchanged amused glances, but Mrs. Stewart was diving into another trunk and did not see. Harriot stayed long enough to secure the refreshments that sooner or later were always forthcoming, and then she suddenly discovered a good reason why they should be getting home again. “Are you really going this time, Aunt Cora?” Harriot asked as they were taking their departure. “Almost any day now, my love,” her aunt answered, “but I sha’n’t go without seeing you-all once more.” “I wasn’t thinking of that,” Harriot answered frankly, though without the slightest intention of being rude. “I was just wondering who would get the peaches. You know, Dee,” she went on, turning to Dorothea, “the Crosslands peaches are the best in the state.” “My dear child,” Aunt Cora replied with gracious generosity, “you may have as many as you like when we are gone. Only I am afraid that the Yankees will take them all before you can get a chance at them.” “Huh!” grunted Harriot, bristling. “If those peaches are _mine_, it’ll take a mighty smart Yankee to get them away from me. And besides, I can eat them greener than any upstart Northerner that ever was born. I’ve had practice.” “They’re yours, honey, if we are away,” her aunt replied with a laugh. “Only don’t make yourself sick.” “Nothing ever makes me sick,” Harriot replied proudly. “The more I eat the weller and weller I get.”