Presently they turned off the main road into a grassy by-path, and came all at once upon a small orange grove, whose trees were loaded down with great clusters of golden fruit.
“The Merry Hearts” shrieked with joy.
“Do you suppose they’ll let us pick a few, father?” asked Betty. “We promised Rachel and K. and Nita that we’d bring them some oranges we had picked ourselves.”
“Hadn’t you better wait and come back later in the week?” asked Mr. Wales with a twinkle. “Ripe oranges don’t keep long, you know.”
“But we may not have time to come back,” protested Betty. “I think they’ll keep. And anyhow, father, we are just crazy to pick some now, aren’t we, girls?”
“All right,“ said Mr. Wales, laughing heartily as he went off toward the nearest house. He came back after a minute with the owner of the grove, who invited the party in and told them to pick as many oranges as they wanted.
“Take some grapefruit, too,” he said, “and some forbidden fruit. They’re a good deal the same, but you’ll want to try everything while you’re here.”
“Yes, we do,” said Bob. “What other kinds are there?“
“Sugar apples,” said the man, “and sour sops, and shaddock. I don’t raise any of those, but you can buy them at the market.”
“I hope you’ll remember all those names, Helen Chase Adams,” said Bob. “As long as you came to improve your mind, you might as well do the remembering for the crowd. Let’s go to market to-morrow, girls.”