Chapter V: Berry-Picking

It would be tedious to recount who ate the most fruit on the occasion of Aunt Marian's grand garden-party, while it is our duty and pleasure to give the name of the one who gathered the most, and of the one who became also the happy possessor of Aunt Marian's prize.

All the morning it seemed doubtful who would be the winner, as all hands seemed to work with an almost equal zeal, and only those whose fingers were smaller, and whose skins were more susceptible to thorns, had less in their cans than the others; but as luncheon time drew near, and hunger began to assert itself, there was a visible diminution of work, and some of the cans even grew less full, as their owners found it more convenient and satisfactory to help themselves from the gathered fruit. It was about this time that Harry found himself close to Kathleen, having deserted his own class of fruit for a very promising bush of gooseberries, which bade fair to satisfy his hunger at a greater rate than any of the others.

"How have you got on, Katy?" he asked, with his mouth full of large amber gooseberries, while he knelt down under the tree the better to enjoy his meal. "Pooh, is that all?" craning his neck across the bush and looking into his sister's can; "I expect you have been devouring largely."

"You expect wrong, then," she answered rather hotly; "I have not tasted a single one. I made a promise to myself that I would not taste one until I had filled my can up to that mark, and I want ages of reaching it still;" and, as Kathleen spoke, she pointed to a line scratched round the middle of the can, so as to divide the inside into two equal portions.

"My eyes, do you mean to say you have not tasted any fruit at all, all this time?"

"Not one pick."

"And you have only gathered that little dab at the bottom of the can?"

"It is not a little dab; it's a whole lot."

"Well, all I can say is the others have gathered twice as much: you must have been star-gazing, or perhaps you went to sleep."

"I did nothing of the kind, but it's so awfully hard to gather raspberries: they all go squash the moment you take hold of them, and they look so awfully flat when you put them into the can; and besides, there are so few really ripe. I have gone round and round the bushes, and could scarcely find any."

"Because, you little donkey, you have chosen nearly the worst spot in the whole garden: if you will come with me I'll give you a share of my bushes, and they are the most golliferous ones in the place; not a soul has found them out but myself, and it's such a rare good plant my can is half full already."

"Where is your can?"

"It is hidden under a lot of cauliflowers; I only came here for a graze, and I'm going back at once."

"Are you sure there are enough for us both?"

"Millions and billions."

"Oh, delightful!" sighed poor Kathleen, whose little flushed face and scratched hands showed how hard she had worked. "It's awfully kind of you, Harry."

"Humbug; but sit down, I say, and have a grub with me at these ambers. They are the grandest chaps in all creation; not a bone in their bodies, and bursting with delicious juice. They are rare fellows, I can tell you, if you only tried them."

"No," said Kathleen, shaking her head; "I promised not to take any."

"Promised your fiddlesticks," cried Harry contemptuously, while he filled his mouth with five or six yellow monsters; "whom did you promise?"

"I promised myself."

"Ha, ha, ha! promised yourself," roared Harry; "why, you ought to know by this time, I should think, that you are nobody, and therefore if you promised nobody you are not bound to keep your word. Here, taste this one--it's a real beauty, a savoury morsel, I can tell you;" and Harry held up an amber through which the sun shone temptingly.

"No, thank you; I'd rather not."

"Well, have it your own way," cried Harry. "I made no promise to myself or any one else, so here goes;" and he transferred the gooseberry to his own mouth. "Do you know these are filling animals at the price; I've nearly had as much as I care for, and the wasps are all buzzing about me like mad."

"Then come on, that's a good boy, and show me where I am to go on gathering."

"All serene;" and Harry rose from his position underneath the bush, leaving a mound of empty skins to mark out to future comers the halting-place of a hungry spirit; and then, taking Kathleen's can in one hand, and thrusting the other through his sister's arm, he walked leisurely on towards the "rare good plant" he had told her of.

"We had better dodge a bit as we go past the walks," he whispered; "for if the other chaps scented our trail they would be down on us like winkin. Here, duck down beyond these bushes, and we shall be past the whole lot of them in a minute."

Kathleen ducked down as she was told, and following in her brother's footsteps, soon found herself in quite a grove of raspberry bushes, every one of which was covered with ripe red fruit, and on which even Harry's ravages had not as yet made themselves visible.

"Here we are now," he cried, "in a perfect paradise of rasps. Ain't I a knowing dog to have found out such a choice spot for work?"

"Indeed you are," said Kathleen gratefully. "I'm awfully obliged to you for showing it to me."

"Nonsense; you just go ahead now and pick away like fun, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll just put a few of my rasps into your can, so as to give you a good start."

"Oh no, please don't;" but Harry was too excited to hear her refusal, and was already busy searching among the tall cauliflowers for his hidden can.

"Well, that's the rummest thing I ever saw!" he cried presently in great surprise. "I left my can under this very white-headed chap here, and it's gone now. I counted him down from the wall, and he was number six on the first left-hand row; and now it's nowhere to be found."

"Let me help you. I am sure it is somewhere," cried Kathleen, instantly deserting her can to come to her brother's help. "Are you certain it was under the cauliflowers you hid it?"

"Just as certain as that you are standing there. I marked this particular 'cauli' because I thought it looked the image of a white nigger's pate; and what's more, there is the mark of the can in the soft clay; look for yourself."

Kathleen, who was at the distance of some rows, came jumping over them quickly to see the confirmation of Harry's assertion; but as she leaped over the last row her foot struck against something hard, which gave a sharp metallic ring.

"That's it," cried Kathleen. "I'm certain that was your can I knocked against there. It was very well I did not upset it and all the fruit into the bargain."

It was Harry's can, and no mistake; he knew it by its label, on the back of which, to avoid mistakes, he had scratched his own name.

"Well, how on earth did the beggar get there?" said he meditatively. "I am as certain as ever I was of anything in my life that I did not put it there. Let's see," he added with a curious whistle, which expressed better than words the dawning of some new idea--"let's see if any one has been poaching on my preserves;" and he raised the two green leaves which covered the gathered fruit. "Ay, just so--just what I suspected; somebody has been prigging out of my can. It was up to this mark here when I left it"--and he pointed to a little cross which he had scratched with a stone--"and now it's down below zero. I do say it's a howling shame."

"Who could have done it?" asked Kathleen, with widely-opened eyes of horror.

"That's more than I can tell. There was not a soul saw me go up this path except Fred, who had found a splendid 'plant' for himself. Well, come along--life's too short for getting into passions; and, besides, I am too like the fat boy in Punch to be up for much fighting, for I do feel uncommonly as if my jacket were buttoned. Here"--he added, taking up the can and carrying it over to the raspberry bushes--"let me shy all I've got into your can, and I'll give up the chivy altogether."

"Indeed you must not; you've a splendid lot there. Go on, and it will soon be quite full."

"Not I; it's too much bother. Of course, whoever helped themselves out of my can will win the day; unless, indeed, you let me fill yours up with what remains of mine, and we'll outwit the dishonest old fellows with their own weapons. I'd like to see him, or her, whoever it was, well thrashed. Here, hold your can."

"No; I would much rather go on gathering for myself."

"Why?" asked Harry, holding his can already poised over his sister's.

"Oh! because it would be awfully unfair. We were each to fill our own,--Aunt Marian said so; and, besides, you'll lose the prize if you do."

"But suppose I want you to win it. I don't care a straw whether I get it or not, and I'd like you awfully to have it."

"I know you would, and it's tremendously good-natured of you, Harry; but, indeed, indeed, it would not be fair. I would much rather gather them all myself."

"Well, if you ain't the greatest stickler about trifles I ever met! However, I think myself you're pretty near right for all that. So do you pick away as hard you can, and I'll gather a few more; for I should not quite like Aunt Marian to think I was too greedy to care about her jam."