I never bought any. I knew every wild-cherry tree within twenty miles of Antrim. The lady saw an opening and went in. "Did you ever get caught?" she asked. I hung my head. Then followed a brief lecture on private property—brief, for it was cut short by Anna, who, without any apology or introduction, said as she confronted the slum evangel:
"Is God our Father?"
"Yes, indeed," the lady answered.
"An' we are all His childther?"
"Assuredly."
"Would ye starve yer brother Tom?"
"Of course not."
"But ye don't mind s' much th' starvation of all yer other wee brothers an' sisters on th' streets, do ye?"
There was a commotion behind the paper partition. The group stood in breathless silence until the hunger question was put, then they "dunched" each other and made faces. My father took a handful of my hair, and gave it a good-natured but vigorous tug to prevent an explosion.
"Oh, Anna!" she said, "you are mistaken; I would starve nobody—and far be it from me to accuse—"