"Ah, thief!" shouted my guide, as a blackbird flew out of the bed,

uttering its loud call. "Why, boys, boys, you ought to have caught

him."

This was to the cats, one of which answered by giving itself a rub down

his leg, while he clapped his hand upon my shoulder.

"There you are, my hearty. It isn't so far for you to stoop as it would

be for me. Go and pick 'em."

"Pick them?" I said, looking at him wonderingly.

"To be sure. Go ahead. I'll hold your flowers. Only take the ripe

ones, and see here--do you know how to pick strawberries?"

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I felt so amused at such a silly question that I looked up at him and

laughed.

"Oh, you do?" he said.

"Why, anybody could pick strawberries," I replied.

"Really, now! Well, let's see. There's a big flat fellow, pick him."

I handed him the flowers, and stepping between two rows of plants,

stooped down, and picked the great strawberry he pointed out.

"Oh, you call that picking, do you?" he said.

"Yes, sir. Don't you?"

"No: I call it tearing my plants to pieces. Why, look here, if my

pickers were to go to work like that, I should only get half a crop and

my plants would be spoiled."

I looked at him helplessly, and wished he would pick the strawberries

himself.

"Look here," he said, stooping over a plant, and letting a great scarlet

berry specked with golden seeds fall over into his hand. "Now see:

finger nail and thumb nail; turn 'em into scissors; draw one against the

other, and the stalk's through. That's the way to do it, and the rest

of the bunch not hurt. Now then, your back's younger than mine. Go

ahead."

I felt hot and uncomfortable, but I took the rhubarb leaf, stepped in

amongst the clean straw, and, using my nails as he had bid me, found

that the strawberries came off wonderfully well.

"Only the ripe ones, boy; leave the others. Pick away. Poor old Tommy

then!"

I looked up to see if he was speaking to me, but he had let one of the

cats run up to his shoulder, and he was stroking the soft lithe creature

as it rubbed itself against his head.

"That's the way, boy," he cried, as I scissored off two or three berries

in the way he had taught me. "I like to see a chap with brains. Come,

pick away."

I did pick away, till I had about twenty in the soft green leaf, and

then I stopped, knowing that in flowers and fruit I had twice as much as

I should have obtained at the shop.

"Oh, come, get on," he cried contemptuously. "You're not half a fellow.

Don't stop. Does your back ache?"




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