"That's right," he said, laughing. "So you ought to be. Good-bye.
Come again soon. My dooty to your mamma, and I hope she'll be better.
Shake hands."
I held out my hand and grasped his warmly as we reached the gate, seeing
Shock watching me all the time. Then as I stood outside old Brownsmith
laughed and nodded.
"Mind how you pack your strawberries," he said with a laugh; "bad 'uns
at bottom, good 'uns at top. Good-bye, youngster, good-bye."