rchard was open, and
from the pasture-field there arose a great noise--whistling, shouting,
rattling of tin pails, and barking. She sprang up and darted to the
window. That double racket always proclaimed the approach of Charles
Stuart and Trip. Yes, there they were, the former just vaulting over
the bars, the latter wriggling through them. Charles Stuart had a big
tin pail and a small tin cup, and, just as sure as she was a living,
breathing person, he and John would be off in two minutes to pick
strawberries in Sandy McLachlan's slash!

Elizabeth went down the stairs three steps at a time. Miss Gordon was
sitting by the dining-room window, Annie at her side. Both were
sewing, and Annie's cheeks so pink and her eyes so bright that her aunt
looked at her curiously from time to time. They were interrupted by
the bursting open of the door, and like a whirlwind a disheveled little
person, wild-eyed and tear-stained, in a dirty, streaked pinafore,
flung herself into the room.

"Oh, Aunt Margaret! The boys are going pickin' berries. Can't I go,
too? Oh, do let me go?"

Elizabeth stood before her aunt twisting her pinafore into a string in
an agony of suspense.

Miss Gordon looked at the turbulent little figure in silent despair,
and Annie ventured gently:

"It would be nice to have strawberries for tea, aunt, and Lizzie could
help John."

Miss Gordon sighed. "If I could only trust you, Elizabeth," she said.
"But I wonder what new trouble you'll get into?"

"Oh, I promise I won't get into any!" gasped Elizabeth in solemn
pledge, all unconscious that it was equivalent to a promise from the
wind not to blow.

"It's no use promising," said Miss Gordon mournfully. "You know,
Elizabeth, I have warned you repeatedly against the wild streak in you,
and yet in the face of all my admonitions you still persist in acting
in an unladylike manner. Now, when I was a little girl, I never went
anywhere with my brother, your dear papa, except perhaps for a little
genteel stroll----"

Elizabeth could bear no more. The last prop of endurance gave way at
the sight of John and Charles Stuart marching calmly past the window,
rattling their tin pails.

"Oh, Aunt Margaret!" she burst out in anguished tones, "couldn't
you--would you please finish scolding me when I get back. The boys are
gone!"

Miss Gordon paused, completely baffled. This strangest child of all
this strange family of William's was quite beyond her.