“Charlie laughed mockingly.
“‘I dare you!’ he cried. ‘I double dare you!’
“I jumped up, and so did Betty, and we threw our gloves to the ground and started for the persimmon tree.
“‘Are you sure you can do it?’ whispered Betty.
“I had my doubts myself by this time, for, though I could go all over the gnarled old apple tree in the side yard and climb the cherry trees and the peach trees and any reasonably high tree, to climb to the top of grandfather’s persimmon was a different undertaking.
“Charlie saw us talking and thought I was weakening.
“‘If you can’t do it, Sarah,’ he said, ‘of course I’ll let you off.’
“‘I can do it all right,’ I answered grimly, but I wished with all my heart I hadn’t said I would do it in the first place.
“The lower limbs of the persimmon were so high from the ground that for a while it looked as if I shouldn’t even get into the tree at all. Charlie offered to boost me, but I scorned his help. When finally, with the aid of a fence rail and by ‘cooning,’ I reached the lowest branch, my hands were scratched and swollen and hurting dreadfully. But after that it wasn’t as hard. As I went up, slowly and carefully, Betty and Charlie, under the tree, watched me.