In among the rows of trees were tall stepladders, and standing on these the pickers plucked the ripe fruit, putting the peaches into cloth bags that hung about their shoulders. When the bags were filled, the pickers climbed down and emptied the fruit into big boxes that stood about.
While some were doing this, other workers sorted out the best peaches into baskets which were put on a motor car and hauled to the big barn into which Mr. Bobbsey had driven the day of the storm.
“In the barn,” Mr. Bobbsey explained to the children, “the peaches are sorted again, wooden tops are fastened on the baskets, and they are then hauled to the big peach market in a distant city where they are sold.”
“Oh, could we go to the peach market?” asked Bert.
“Perhaps,” his father said.
“Why don’t they just shake the trees and let the peaches fall on the ground and then pick them up?” asked Freddie.
“That would never do,” said his father. “The peaches would become bruised by falling on the ground, and once a peach, apple, or other fruit is bruised it rots very quickly. Great care must be had in picking the best fruit if it is to be sold for a good price in the market. See how careful the pickers are.”
But in spite of all the care used, there were soft and bruised peaches. Some fell off the tree before they could be picked. These soft peaches were put in a separate bin. They could be sold to a near-by canning factory to be made into marmalade, the soft parts being cut out.
It was a busy and entertaining sight in the peach orchard, and as Nan looked on she said to Bert:
“I’m going to put this about peach-picking in my composition.”