"But, Chi, it will take such a lot of corn to fatten them. We don't want to ask father for anything."
"That's right, Rose. Be independent as long as you can; I thought of that, too. Now, there 's a whole acre on the south slope I ploughed this spring,--nice, hot land, just right for corn-raisin'; 'n' if you children 'll drop 'n' cover, I 'll help you with the hoein' 'n' cuttin' 'n' huskin'; 'n' you 'll have your corn for nothin'."
"Good for you, Chi; we 'll do it, won't we?" cried March.
"You bet," said Budd.
"I can pick berries," said Rose, "and we can always sell them at the Inn, or at Barton's River."
"Yes, and we can begin in June," said Cherry; "the pastures are just red with the wild strawberries, you know, Rose."
"It's an awful sight of work to pick 'em," said Budd, rather dubiously.
"Well, you can't get your money without workin', Budd; 'n' work don't mean 'take it easy.'"
"I 'm sure we can get twenty-five cents a quart for them right in the village. I 've heard folks say they make the best preserve you can get, and you can't buy them for love nor money," said Rose. "Mother makes beautiful ones."
"Was n't that what we had last Sunday night when the minister was here to tea?" asked Hazel.