The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach; Or, In Quest of the RunawaysPenrose, Margaret
General
The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach; Or, In Quest of the Runaways
Penrose, Margaret
Automobile travel -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Societies and clubs -- Juvenile fiction; Runaway children -- Juvenile fiction
"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Bess, as they neared the shed, "did you ever
see such a hateful old woman!"
"Hush!" whispered Belle. "Do you want us to go back to Chelton without
our berries?"
"If she ever looks at them they will sour--they couldn't keep," went on
Bess, recklessly, but in lowered tones.
"We would like two crates of berries," Cora was saying to the woman,
who stood, hands on her hips, framed in the narrow doorway of the
sorting shed.
"Yes," answered the woman. "Step inside and pick 'em out. They are all
fresh picked to-day. Rose, don't you know enough to make room for the
young lady?" and the woman glared at the girl who had hurried in from
the patch.
"Oh, I have plenty of room," Cora said with a smile to Rose. "What are
those little sticks for?"
"Them's the tally-sticks," answered the woman. "They get one for every
quart they pick, and then they cash 'em in. Here!" and she snapped a
bunch from the trembling hands of the girl who was counting and tying
up in bunches the wooden counters, "let me show 'em to the young
lady."
"Oh, I can see them," declared Cora, without trying to hide her
distaste for the woman's rudeness to Rose. "How many tally-sticks did
you get to-day?" she asked the girl.
"Oh, she don't get any," spoke the woman. Rose never raised her eyes.
"Them two girls have me robbed with their eatin' and drinkin' and
airs. I have to take care of them--they're me own sister's children,"
and she raised the hem of her dirty apron to her eyes.
"But they help you," insisted Cora. "They pick berries all day, do
they not?"
"Help me?" came with a sneer. "I would like to see how! There's shoes
to be bought, clothes and all sich. Then, butter is high, and them
girls must have butter on their bread."
"When we don't get anything else," spoke up Rose, boldly.
"What!" called the aunt, her eyes flashing angrily. "That's the way
I'm thanked! Go up to the house, and wash them dishes, and don't you
leave the house till--I've talked with you," she commanded. "It's a
hard job to bring up somebody else's children," and she tried to sigh,
"but I am bound to do my best by 'em."
Bess and Belle seemed actually frightened. They did not venture under
the roof of the shack, but stood at the door with eyes staring. Rose
passed out, and, as she did so, she winked at Belle. Belle gave a
friendly little tug at the brown apron as it passed, and then Bess
went inside, at Cora's request, to select her crate.
Four very small boys slouched up the path to the shed. Their crates
were full and they seemed ready to drop down from exhaustion. One,
with fiery red hair, pushed his way ahead of the others and presented
his tray to the woman. She surveyed it critically, then said:
"Andy, did you swipe a bunch of tallies this morning?"
"I did not!" replied the little fellow indignantly.
"How many you got?" she demanded.
He dug his dirty, brown hands down deep into his trousers pockets.
Then he brought up three bunches of the tally-sticks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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