“I think so,” said Gladys, “if we arrange them carefully.” The berries and asparagus were loaded into the back of the machine and Gladys and Migwan drove off.
“What shall we do now, Nyoda?” asked Hinpoha, after the two girls were gone.
“I know what I’m going to do,” said Nyoda, moving in the direction of her bedroom. “Now,” she said, as she threw herself on the bed with a great yawn and stretch, “if anyone asks you what kind of a farmer I am you may tell them that I’m a retired one!” Nyoda had been up since four o’clock that morning, and was unused to such early rising. Hinpoha drew down the shade to shut out the strong sunlight and tiptoed from the room.
Gladys and Migwan stopped first at a large grocery store to inquire the prices of strawberries and asparagus. The proprietor offered to buy the whole load, but they would not sell, as they could get more for them by peddling them at retail prices. Migwan examined the berries in the store, and mentally fixed her middle grade berries at the same price with them, and her finest grade ones at three cents higher.
“I’ve an idea,” said Gladys, “that some of mother’s friends would take the berries at our own price.” Thus it was that Mrs. Davis, whose speculations about the financial standing of the Evans family had resulted in Gladys’s mother giving her such an elaborate party the winter before, was surprised by a call from Gladys at ten o’clock in the morning.
“Ah, good morning, my dear,” she said effusively, seating Gladys in the parlor, “you have come to spend the day, I hope? Caroline is not up yet—she was out late last night—but I shall make her get up right away.”
“Please don’t call Caroline,” said Gladys, “it’s you I came to see.”
“Oh, yes,” purred Mrs. Davis, “a message from your mother, I see.”
Gladys came to the point directly. “Have you canned your strawberries yet, Mrs. Davis?”
“No,” replied Mrs. Davis, a little puzzled by the question.