Cora spoke before anyone else had a chance to do so.
“The boys are willing to arbitrate,” she said. Then she felt foolish for using that word. “They have come for terms,” she said, more plainly.
“Terms!” repeated the woman scornfully. “My terms is the same now as they was first. Andy Murry pays for that crate!”
“If the crate is paid for will it belong to him?” asked Cora.
The woman stopped, as if afraid of falling into some trap. “I don’t care who owns ’em, when he pays for ’em. But he sneaked out one bunch of tallies——”
“He did not!” shouted a chorus. “He earned every one he’s got and the ten that you’ve got!”
“And it was you who spoiled the berries by pushing him into them,” shouted some others, “and we are here to see him faired.”
Cora was perplexed. She wanted to save more trouble, yet she did not feel it “fair” to give in to the woman.
“Your berries are spoiling in the fields now,” she suggested. “Why don’t you give in, and let the boys go back to work?”
“Me give in to a pack of kids!” shouted the enraged woman.