“Yes; and I suppose that Pierre here is a little surprised too; seeing that he was to call upon me this evening, and not I upon him before sundown. But I took a sudden fancy for a solitary stroll,—the afternoon was such a delicious one; and chancing—it was only chancing—to pass through the Locust Lane leading hither, I met the strangest little fellow, with this basket in his hand.—‘Yes, buy them, miss’—said he. ‘And how do you know I want to buy them,’ returned I, ‘I don’t want to buy them.’—‘Yes you do, miss; they ought to be twenty-six cents, but I’ll take thirteen cents, that being my shilling. I always want the odd half cent, I do. Come, I can’t wait, I have been expecting you long enough.’”
“A very sagacious little imp,” laughed Mrs. Glendinning.
“Impertinent little rascal,” cried Pierre.
“And am I not now the silliest of all silly girls, to be telling you my adventures so very frankly,” smiled Lucy.
“No; but the most celestial of all innocents,” cried Pierre, in a rhapsody of delight. “Frankly open is the flower, that hath nothing but purity to show.”
“Now, my dear little Lucy,” said Mrs. Glendinning, “let Pierre take off your shawl, and come now and stay to tea with us. Pierre has put back the dinner so, the tea-hour will come now very soon.”
“Thank you; but I can not stay this time. Look, I have forgotten my own errand; I brought these strawberries for you, Mrs. Glendinning, and for Pierre;—Pierre is so wonderfully fond of them.”
“I was audacious enough to think as much,” cried Pierre, “for you and me, you see, mother; for you and me, you understand that, I hope.”
“Perfectly, my dear brother.”
Lucy blushed.