Mrs. Nutter's news of the berries was of interest to Mrs. Wiggin and her daughters, who picked up their baskets to start for the field at once.
Anthony Wiggin, who was sorting his papers at his desk, shook his head with the warning:
"It is a great risk you run to go into that open field without a guard. Indians may even now be prowling about the woods."
Nevertheless the women started off for the strawberries. Little Patience, with the strip of patchwork dangling from her pocket, joined them so quickly that one could almost believe some large stitches had been taken on that last square.
When Anthony Wiggin had finished his work and each paper had been placed in its proper pigeon hole, he closed his desk.
"Hm," he muttered, glancing from the window at the women and children in the field, "they do not sense the danger we constantly live in, now that the French have stirred up the Indians. I believe I will frighten them with a shot, just as a warning."
