“What a good time the robins were having, to be sure.” She thought it might be great fun to be a robin and go flying, flying among the trees. They did seem to be enjoying themselves so much that the little girl felt sorry that the cherries must be picked, and they be left without any, but she remembered that the cherries would not last very long anyhow, and that the robins would have their share first. Up and down the lawn John went, while Cassy sat on the step and watched him and the robins, and gazed at the garden before her.
The best of the blossoming was over, but there were a number of flowers still to be seen; marigolds, and larkspurs, and snap-dragons, phlox and mignonette and monthly roses, not to mention the geraniums. Every time John came to the end of his line he would stop to have a pleasant word, and although he declared that he wasn’t getting along very fast, it was evident that he enjoyed Cassy’s company.
After a while the grass was cut and lay in sweet smelling heaps upon the lawn.
“That will make quite a little pile of hay,” said John, “and there’s nothing smells sweeter. Come along now and we’ll get those cherries.”
Bringing a ladder he placed it against the tree and soon had climbed within reach of the fruit-laden branches. He tossed a cluster down to Cassy.
“Try ’em,” he said.
Cassy immediately popped one into her mouth.
“Like that? Pretty good, isn’t it?”
“It’s delicious,” Cassy returned.
“Think you’d like to come up here and pick some for yourself? Afraid to try the ladder? It’s pretty steady.”