Haven't you anything for me to do, Miss
Arabella? I would run errands, carry in wood and water, or do anything
else."
"No, there's nothing like that you could do around here. Tom is
supposed to look after such things, and I don't want to take his jobs
from him. He does little enough as it is, dear knows. He spends so
much of his time at the store that he won't look after the garden. The
strawberries are getting ripe, and I expect they'll rot before he'll
touch them. I never saw such a man. I wish to goodness he had to work
for his living instead, of depending upon what his father left him."
"Let me pick the berries, Miss Arabella," and Rod stepped quickly
forward. "I'll do it for a cent a box, or less if you want me to. I
know a boy who did that and he earned three dollars."
Miss Arabella did not at once reply, and Rod was afraid that she did
not agree to his proposal. She remained silent for a while, plucking
at her dress in a thoughtful manner.
"Rod," she at last began, and her voice was softer than he had ever
heard it, "I am going to give you that patch of berries. It will be
your very own, and you can do what you like with it."
"Oh, Miss Arabella! Surely----"
"There, that will do, now," she snapped.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150