’Gustus John had promised to bring all the big pails of berries in town when he went in the next morning, so the children had only their little baskets with them. Everybody was in place now, and with many good-bys and thanks to ’Manda, the merry party started.
It was after five when ’Manda went bustling back into the house to prepare supper. There was no sound from the parlour yet, and she concluded that Cricket was still sleeping.
“I’ll jest take a peek at the little dear,” she said, presently. “Like’s not she’s awake by this time, and will want some supper.”
’Manda had always been devoted to Cricket. She had lived with Mrs. Ward as nurse when Cricket was a baby, and the little girl was more than a year old when ’Manda married ’Gustus John, the doctor’s farmer. So Cricket had always been her especial pet.
She opened the parlour door gently and looked in. Cricket opened her eyes with a smile.
“Oh, ’Manda! my head is ever so much better. It doesn’t ache scarcely at all. Have the others come in from the strawberry field yet?”
“La, suz! yes, dear heart. They come and went, mebbe half an hour ago. You wuz a sleepin’ so nice that we didn’t like to wake you up.”
“Gone!” exclaimed Cricket, feeling for the first moment as if she were deserted on a desert island. “Why, what am I going to do?”
“You’re goin’ to stay with ’Manda to-night, my pretty. That won’t be bad, will it?”
“No,” faltered Cricket, but she felt very forlorn and homesick, nevertheless.