Freddie moved his tongue around over his teeth to make sure.
“No, I guess I didn’t,” he answered. “But I’ll go up to the house and wash, Mother, and put on other clothes, and then I can help pick more peaches, can’t I?”
“I guess you’d better stay on the ground or on a box which isn’t so high as the ladder, and then you won’t fall next time,” suggested Mr. Watson, with a laugh.
“Did he do any damage?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, who came up from another part of the orchard in time to see Nan leading her small brother back to the house to help him change his clothes.
“No damage at all. He fell in the soft peaches that are going to the factory where they will be made into peach butter,” answered the farmer. “For canned peaches, either in halves or slices, the canning factory, of course, uses only good, sound fruit. But the soft ones, when they aren’t actually rotten, can be made up into peach butter, and very good it is, too. No, Freddie didn’t do any harm.”
The work of gathering the peaches was in full swing now, for it was the time to gather the best of the crop and sell while the prices were high.
“Where do you sell your fruit?” asked Mr. Bobbsey of the farmer when Freddie had returned to the orchard.
“Over in Hitchville,” was the answer. “There’s a peach market there, where the wholesale buyers come and buy them by the truck load. I’ll have about two loads ready to go in to-morrow.”
“Could we go with you and see how they sell peaches?” asked Bert, who hoped, when he grew up, to become a business man like his father.
“Yes, you children can ride on the truck if you like,” the farmer said. “But you’d be more comfortable going in your own car. The trucks are big and heavy and aren’t easy riding.”