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from the short-stemmed clusters was tedious work. Occasionally the girl turned her attention to other natters. "v.Tiy are the berry bushes this high?" "Did they have flowers in the spring like the current bushes?" "Why didn't the birds eat them? They ate our red raspberries." Her father patiently answered the innumerable questions, but always at a steady, berry-picking pace. They worked several hours before the containers were finally full. Her father checked his pocket watch, "Well, it's time to go home. Morase will be starting to worry," he said, looking at the buckets while brushing his hands together. Vera turned toward home and looked at the distance ahead of her. Tired, her tiny frame slumped to a large stone. Her father again called, "Vera, time to head Her legs refused to move. Her body remained attached to the rock. "Daddy," she said, "I'm tired, carry me." "I can't," he answered as he lifted the buckets, "I have these to carry." "Ho Daddy," the child pleaded, "leave the berries and carry ne." "Well, rest a minute," he said setting the buckets back dovm., "and I'll find a little pony to carry you." The child watched with a weary interest as he searched around the hill before selecting a dry branch, about one inch in diameter and three feet long. "She's a beauty, brown with white feet, and just your size," 49 |
