The grave young face set in the depths of the sunbonnet broke into a smile that quite transformed it.
“Even if it had been,” the girl suggested, “it wouldn’t have been so very dangerous, you know.”
“Maybe not.” Amy’s tone was dubious. And then as Peggy and Ruth came hurrying to the spot, she turned to give them an explanation of the scream which had summoned them in such haste. All four laughed together, and the girl in the sunbonnet had an odd sense of being well acquainted with the friendly invaders.
“I suppose introductions are in order,” Amy rattled on, “but, you see, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Lucy Haines.”
“Well, this is Peggy Raymond, our mistress of ceremonies, and this is Ruth Wylie, who thinks everything that Peggy does is exactly right, and I’m the scatterbrain of the lot.”
Lucy Haines looked a little bewildered as she met the girls’ smiles, when Peggy came to the rescue. “A crowd of us are in Mrs. Leighton’s cottage for the summer, and this is our first berrying. Don’t you think I’ve had good luck?” She tilted her pail to show its contents, and Lucy Haines admired as in duty bound.
“Let’s see how you’ve done,” suggested Amy, and Lucy brought from the other side of the raspberry bushes a large-sized milk-pail so heaping full that the topmost berries looked as if they were contemplating escape. The girls exclaimed in chorus.
“You don’t mean that you’ve picked those all yourself,” cried Amy, remembering the scanty harvest she had spilled in her tumble.
“Your family must be very fond of raspberries,” observed Ruth.