"To obviate any chance for envy as to which shall gather the greatest amount of berries, let us take along a common, large receptacle, into which each of us shall deposit as often as our smaller vessels shall be filled." "That is a thoughtful and wise plan for an unambitious person. I assent to the proposition," smilingly answered Mina. A bushel basket was found and all agreed to take turns in carrying it to the pasture. At last, the procession was formed, after several more short halts for consultation and criticism, and was finally under way for the pasture. But when in the highway, which they had to cross to reach the same, they were accosted by two ragged boys with, "Say, girls, do you want to buy any berries; only five cents a quart; twelve quarts--all there were in the pasture, every one, and it's the last picking of the season." "Oh dear, I told you so; I knew it would be this way," said Mary petulantly; "some people are so slow." "It is too provoking for anything," said Mina, "and it will be so humiliating to return to the house without any berries after making such a hullabaloo," sighed Jane. "Oh, girls!" exclaimed Mary, "let's buy the berries of the boys and divide them between us. Let's see, twelve divided by three equals four; four quarts is a very reasonable and respectable amount for an ordinary person. You hold them while I run home and get the money." After the transfer of the berries was completed, the three girls returned to the house, triumphantly smiling, and happy, with the twelve quarts of berries. Mingling with the rest of the family, I could not refrain from speaking about what fun it was to go berrying, when suddenly grandpa remarked, "that four quarts was a very reasonable and respectable amount for an ordinary person." Grandpa had been sitting on a fence, concealed by bushes, and had seen the whole performance. A quick, suspicious, comprehensive glance passed between the conspirators, when the suspense was broken by the voice of the shock-headed boy who yelled out, "Say, girls, do you want to buy any more berries for tomorrow?" "How provoking!" said Mary. "How humiliating!" assented Mina. "I feel so ashamed I shall never feel right again. Why did we dissemble? Prevarication is a kind of a lie; I never want to hear the word 'blackberries' again," moaned Jane. A Romany Tent By Lalia Mitchell When you bring your pledge of a lasting love, A love that is fond and free, Oh, whisper not of a castle high, Or a yacht that sails the sea. I want no tale of a palace fair That towers over loch and lea; But a table set in the open air And a Romany tent for me.