"I know too much for that," said Nelly, laughing; "we may not come back by this road, and then I should not get them at all. Last week I lost some in the same way: I went out walking with Miss Milly over the mountains, and we came to some beauties near Mulligan's little shanty. We thought to save ourselves trouble by leaving them till we returned. Something or other tempted us to strike into another path when we came back, so that our bitter-sweets are on the top of the mountain yet."
"No," said Bessie, "I don't think they are. Did they grow over a big rock, and were there plenty of sumach bushes between them and the path?"
"Yes," said Nelly, beginning to pull down the rich clusters of the bitter-sweets, and breaking them off, one by one.
"Well," said Bessie, making a deep, mock courtesy, "I have the pleasure of having those berries in my own bedroom at this blessed minute. I went to Mulligan's on an errand of mother's, a few days ago, and I brought them down the mountain with me."
"Her loss was your gain, wasn't it?" said Martin, as he aided Nelly to gather the berries.
"I'll help too," said Bessie, "for I'm in a dreadful hurry to get back, Nelly. I have all my cresses to pick for market," and she too broke off the bunches and laid them carefully in Nelly's basket.
"What!" said Nelly, "more cresses, Bessie?"
"Yes," said Bessie, giving a joyful hop, and, as her mother called it, cutting a caper; "and that isn't all, for Dolly's father wants lots and lots and lots more of 'em! Come, I guess you have plenty now, let's go on."
Nelly consented to do so, but first Martin took out of his pocket a handful of tangled twine, and with a piece of it tied the bitter-sweet berries together by the stems, and suspended them in a bunch from her apron strings, so that her basket might be ready for the nuts.