“Strawb’_rees_! Strawb’_rees_!” cried a poorly clad, tired-looking woman, about eleven o’clock one sultry June morning. She was passing a handsome house in Walnut street, into the windows of which she looked earnestly, in the hope of seeing the face of a customer. She did not look in vain, for the shrill sound of her voice brought forward a lady, dressed in a silk morning-wrapper, who beckoned her to stop. The woman lifted the heavy tray from her head, and placing it upon the door-step, sat wearily down. “What’s the price of your strawberries?” asked the lady, as she came to the door. “Ten cents a box, madam. They are right fresh.” “Ten cents!” replied the lady, in a tone of surprise, drawing herself up and looking grave. Then shaking her head, and compressing her lips firmly, she added— “I can’t give ten cents for strawberries. It’s too much.” “You can’t get such strawberries as these for less, madam,” said the woman. “I got a levy a box for them yesterday.” “Then you got too much, that’s all I have to say. I never pay such prices. I bought strawberries in market yesterday, just as good as yours, for eight cents a box.” “I don’t know how they do to sell them at that price,” returned the woman. “Mine cost nearly eight cents, and ought to bring me at least twelve. But I am willing to take ten, so that I can sell out quickly. It’s a very hot day.” And the woman wiped, with her apron, the perspiration from her glowing face. “No, I wont pay ten cents,” said the lady(?) coldly. “I’ll give you forty cents for five quarts, and nothing more.” “But, madam, they cost me within a trifle of eight cents a quart.” “I can’t help that. You paid too much for them, and this must be your loss, not mine, if I buy your strawberries. I never pay for other people’s mistakes. I understand the use of money much better than that.” The poor woman did not feel very well. The day was unusually hot and sultry, and her tray felt heavier, and tired her more than usual. Five boxes would lighten it, and if she sold her berries at eight cents, she would clear two cents and a half, and that made her something. “I’ll tell you what I will do,” she said, after thinking a few moments; “I don’t feel as well as usual to-day, and my tray is heavy. Five boxes sold will be something. You shall have them at nine cents. They cost me seven and a half, and I am sure it’s worth a cent and a half a box to cry them about the streets such hot weather as this.” “I have told you, my good woman, exactly what I will do,” said the customer, with dignity. “If you are willing to take what I offer you, say so, if not, we needn’t stand here any longer.” “Well, I suppose you will have to take them,” replied the strawberry-woman, seeing that there was no hope of doing better. “But it’s too little.”