Part 3 (2/2)
”Andy, did you swipe a bunch of tallies this morning?”
”I did not!” replied the little fellow indignantly.
”How many you got?” she demanded.
He dug his dirty, brown hands down deep into his trousers pockets.
Then he brought up three bunches of the tally-sticks.
”Humph! I thought so,” said the woman. ”Do you mean to tell me a monkey like you can pick ten an hour?”
”He's the best picker on the patch,” spoke up another lad, ”and I was with him when he brought each tray in!”
The girls stood back, deeply interested. The woman took the tray from Andy and turned away without offering the ten little sticks which represented the gathering of ten quarts of berries.
”Where's my tallies?” he demanded.
”You--jest--w-a-i-t,” drawled the woman.
The other boys stepped back. Evidently they were going to ”stick by Andy.”
”I'll give you your crates, and let you go, young ladies,” said the woman to Cora. ”These little rowdies ain't no fit company for customers in automobiles.”
”Oh, indeed we are enjoying looking around,” declared Cora. ”Do give the boys their checks, and let them go back to the patch. They are wasting time.”
Thus cornered, the woman was obliged to go on settling with the pickers.
”Well,” she said, ”I'll give you credit, Andy, until I get a chance to look it up. Here, Narrow (to a very tall boy), gi'me yourn.”
”Nope!” replied the tall boy. ”We waits fer Andy.”
”Well, I'm blowed!” exclaimed the woman. ”If you kids ain't got a cheek! I've a good mind to chase every one of yer.”
Andy stepped back to where she had deposited the box.
”Here!” she called, entirely forgetting the presence of the motor girls. ”Git out of here!” and at that she struck the little fellow a blow on the head that caused him to reel, and then fall backward into an open crate of fresh berries!
”Now you've done it!” yelled the woman. ”You have mashed every one of them! There!” and she dragged him to his little, bruised feet. ”Do you think I can sell stuff like that! Mus.h.!.+ Every red berry of 'em!”
”Oh, make her stop!” pleaded Bess to Cora. ”She may strike him again.”
”What will you do with that crate of berries?” asked Cora, pus.h.i.+ng her way between the angry woman and the frightened boy.
”Make him pay fer 'em, of course,” shouted the tyrant. ”And serves him right, too, for his imperdence!”
Big heavy tears plowed their way through the dirty little spots on the boy's cheeks. To pay for the crate would take all his week's earnings.
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