"All right," Harry replied, snapping the peas off the vines and dropping them into his basket like a real farmer.
"Let's have a race," called Tom. "See who gets his basket full first."
"But no skipping for big ones," put in Jack. "You have to pick every ripe one."
The boys all started in at the top of the hill, each working two rows at a time. They were so interested in the race that scarcely a word was spoken. The peas were plentiful and ripe too, so that the baskets were filling up quickly. Mrs. Burns herself was picking, in fact she had been in the field since the very first peep of dawn, and she would be sure to stay out until the darkness would drive her in.
"You are fine pickers," she told the boys, seeing how quickly they worked. "I pay ten cents a basket, you know."
"I guess we can earn a dollar a day at this rate," laughed Tom, whose basket was almost full.
"I'm done," called Jack from his row.
"No, you're not," said Harry, "you have to cover the rim."
"Oh!" exclaimed Jack, who had just slipped between the rows. "Oh! there goes my basket."
And sure enough the big basket had been upset in Jack's fall, and most of the peas were scattered on the ground.