“You will chase me, will you?” Poots seemed to say, gazing down at him from her safe position. “The idea!”
“Well, we might as well pick up some of this stuff,” said Twaddles, knowing that the fun was over.
“It’s cooler––just feel that breeze!” exclaimed Meg. “Let’s ask Aunt Polly if we can’t go berrying after dinner.”
Aunt Polly obligingly said they could, and after dinner the four little Blossoms scrambled 102 into overalls Aunt Polly had bought and shortened to fit them.
“I wish your mother could see you,” she said, as she gave them each a bright tin pail. “No need to worry about your dress now, is there, Dot?”
“Going berrying?” asked Jud, as they passed him, clipping the green hedge around the kitchen garden. “Better keep out of the sun.”
The children walked down the road and turned into another field. They knew where the blackberry bushes grew, and they meant to fill their pails.
“Let’s start here by this fence,” suggested Bobby. “What’s that over in Mr. Simmond’s field?”
“It’s a bull,” answered Meg who knew all the animals at Brookside and on the neighboring farms by this time. “He’s as cross as can be, but he took three prizes at the last Fair.”
Twaddles ate the first dozen berries he picked and then he picked another dozen for Dot’s pail. He decided that larger and better berries grew on the other side of the fence. He crawled under 103 and his shout of delight brought the others.