The porch at the side of the house was shaded and inviting. Aunt Phoebe insisted on their seating themselves, while she waited on them. Against the snowy covering of the small, round table, the big dish of choice berries made a fine showing. Then Aunt Phoebe brought out a pitcher of rich yellow cream, and the spirits of the crest-fallen group began to revive. The appearance of a heaping plate-full of cookies was hailed with appreciative smiles.
"Plenty more cookies in the jar," said Aunt Phoebe, helping them with lavish hand. "And plenty more berries. Eat all you can."
They had almost reached the point of forgetting Mr. Frost and his discomforting comments, when he again made his appearance. Peggy lost the thread of the story she was telling and stopped short, but as no one was listening, that made no difference.
Mr. Frost seated himself and sighed heavily. "Some folks is afraid to eat too many strawberries," he said. "They're likely to cause a rash."
The girls, not knowing what to say, went on eating mechanically. Aunt Phoebe, however, straightened herself over her saucer. "I don't mind a rash," she announced, "not in such a good cause."
"It ain't that I care for the expense," Mr. Frost said feelingly, "though of course, with the cost of living so high, sensible folks ought to do without everything that ain't necessary. Now Phoebe's got an idea that she wants a new carpet for the sitting room—"
"I've got an idea that I'm going to have one, too," said Aunt Phoebe, breathing hard.
"I tell her that bare floors is all the rage," said Mr. Frost, looking from one to another of the girls, as if he hoped to find an ally in one of them. "Carpets are hiding-places for all sorts of germs. The swellest folks there is have bare floors nowadays, I tell her."
"I guess their bare floors don't look much like mine," exploded Aunt Phoebe, "just common pine boards, not even painted."