The woman was proceeding with extreme care, carrying in either hand a large and well-heaped pail of berries. Before Lucy thought, she stepped forward and exclaimed impulsively: "Do let me help you! They must be dreadfully heavy." "'Tain't so much that they're heavy," Jane answered, smiling, "as that they're full. I'm afraid I'll spill some." "Give me one pail." "Do you really mean it?" "Of course. I'd be glad to take it." "All right," replied Jane simply. "I'm sure I'd be only too thankful if you would. After trampin' miles to pick raspberries, you ain't so keen on losin' 'em when you're within sight of home." "Indeed you're not," Lucy assented. "These are beauties. Where did you go for them?" "Most up to the pine ridge you see yonder. I took my lunch an' have been gone since mornin'." "How I wish I could have gone with you!" "Would you have liked to?" queried Jane incredulously. "Then I wish you might have. It was just the sort of a day to walk. I don't s'pose, though, your aunt would have spared you for an all-day picnic." There was a hint of scorn in the words. "I don't often have time to go far from the house," replied Lucy gently, ignoring Miss Howe's challenge. "There is so much to do." "So there is," agreed Jane hastily. "Certainly we manage to keep busy all the time. When it ain't one thing, it's another. There never seems to be any end to it. But I did steal off to-day. The berries were really an excuse. Of course we can make 'em into jam. Still, what I really wanted was to get out in the air." "I've stolen off too," said Lucy, with a smile. "My aunt and Tony have gone over to the Crossing for lumber and won't be back until dark, so I am having a holiday." Jane was silent a moment. "Why shouldn't you come over and have tea with us then?" she asked abruptly. "We're all alone, too. My brother's gone to the County Fair an' ain't comin' back 'til to-morrow." Lucy's eyes lighted with pleasure. "You're very kind," she cried, a tremor of happiness in her tone. "I'd love to come." They walked along, balancing their burden of berries and chatting of garden, weather, and housework. As they turned in at the Howe gate, Jane motioned proudly toward three rows of flourishing vines that were clambering up a network of sustaining brush. "Those are our sweet peas," she remarked. "The first row is Mary's; they're white. Then come Eliza's--pink ones. Mine are purple. Martin won't plant his over here. He has 'em longside of the barn, an' they're all colors mixed together. We don't like 'em that way, but he does. He's awful fond of flowers, an' he has great luck with 'em, too. He seems to have a great way with flowers. But he never cuts one blossom he raises. Ain't that queer? He says he likes to see 'em growin'." They were nearing the house. "I reckon Mary an' 'Liza will be surprised enough to have me come bringin' you home," observed Jane a trifle consciously. "We ain't done much neighboring, have we?"