ick,--mother says she knows you," was the answer.

"Varick!" replied my mother, quickly, surprised as well as evidently
pleased. "You shall have all you can sell."

She was the daughter of the miserable man whose terrible deathbed we had
both witnessed, and my mother had no difficulty in trusting to her
honesty. Her basket would contain but a few quarts, and these we had
already gathered. I filled her little pasteboard boxes immediately, with
the fruit just as picked from the vines. The poor child fairly capered
with joy as she witnessed the operation. She saw her fortune in a few
quarts of strawberries! I think that as she tripped nimbly through the
gate, my gratification at seeing how cheerfully she thus began her life
of toil was equal to all that she could have experienced herself.

Before the afternoon was half gone, Lucy surprised us by returning with
an empty basket. She had found customers wherever she went, and wanted a
fresh supply of fruit. This was promptly given to her, for she had
obtained even better prices than the widow was getting for us in the
market. That afternoon she made the first half-dollar she ever earned,
and during the entire season she continued to find plenty of the best of
customers at their own doors.

I had long since made up my mind that our pastor was entitled to some
recognition of the substantial kindnesses he had extended to us at the
time of our deep affliction. We had seen him regularly at the Sunday
school, but he knew nothing of my conversion into a strawberry-girl.
What else could we do, in remembrance of his friendship, but to make him
a present of our choicest fruit? Never were strawberries more carefully
selected than those with which I filled a new basket of ample size, as a
gift for him. On my way to the factory the next morning, I delivered
the basket at his door, with a little note expressive of our continued
gratitude, and begging him to accept its contents as being fruit which I
had myself raised. I knew it was but a trifle, but what else than
trifles had I to offer even to the kindest friend we had ever known?

That very afternoon, while my mother and I were at our usual occupation
of picking, I heard the gate open at the other end of the garden, and,
looking up, saw two gentlemen approaching us. They advanced slowly
around the strawberry-beds, apparently examining the plants and fruit,
frequently stooping to turn over the great clusters on a portion of the
ground