"Oh, is that the place?" Molly was peeping over her aunt's shoulder. "I've always longed to go there but I was afraid it was all sloppy and marshy; some one said it was."
"Would you like me to go there with you?" said Ellis bashfully. "I know where the cranberries grow, and there's lots of other things down there, the kind you city people like to get, weeds, we call 'em."
"Oh, may we go?" Molly appealed to her aunt.
"Why yes, I have no objection. It is perfectly safe if it's not wet. I suppose you may encounter a garter snake or two, but you don't mind them, Molly."
"Wait for us, Ellis," said the little girl speeding away for her cousins with whom she returned in a moment. All three were breathlessly eager to start on the voyage of discovery, for with Ellis as leader, into what regions of the unknown might they not penetrate.
Over the hill they went, leaving Cap'n Orrin's mild-eyed cows gazing after them ruminatively as they crept under the fence which separated the pasture from the wild bottom land at the foot of the hill. On the other side arose the ridge along which were ranged cottages looking both coveward and seaward. A winding path led past runty little apple trees and huge boulders, and finally was lost in the tangle of growth overspreading the marsh.
"It is dry enough now," said Mary exultantly, setting her foot on a tuft of dry grass. "Where are the cranberries, Ellis? I want to see those first."
"You are standing right over some," he said smiling.
Mary looked down, but only a mass of weeds and grass greeted her eyes. "I don't see them," she declared.
Ellis laughed, bent over and parted the grass to disclose the delicate wreaths of green, and the pretty smooth cranberries, tucked away in the dry grass.