suggest that you call us strawberry gardeners. Not that we
object in the least to being called farmers, for we consider the title
one of honour. But I am confident that you will then be able to reconcile
our having luncheon on the front porch, our coming to the table with our
coats and collars on, and our having strawberries to eat in spite of the
fact that we raise them ourselves, with the indisputable truth that we
make--or are attempting to make--our living off the soil. We profoundly
respect the desire of a member of the legal profession for exactness, not
only in the use of terms, but in the conformity of facts to those terms.
I trust, however, that the compromise I suggest--"

But he got no further. A burst of appreciative laughter, in which Chase
himself was forced to join, bore witness to the effectiveness with which
the cynical critic had been politely answered. However it might be on
after occasions, for to-day Chase became content to enjoy his broiled
chicken and strawberry-shortcake without further comment on the
inconsistency of their appearance upon the table at Strawberry Acres.

* * * * *

It was late in the afternoon. The Chases had reluctantly taken their
departure, bearing with them gifts of strawberries and roses. In the
strawberry-patch sunshine and silence reigned undisturbed, except by the
light June breeze which rustled the leaves enough to show beneath them
the fruit which by day-after-to-morrow would be ripe enough to pick. The
first picking had been a small one, and had gone wholly to neighbours and
friends and to consumption upon the home table. In two days more the
gathering of the harvest would begin in earnest. It may not have been
strictly business-like, this opening of the season by feasting and
bestowal, but it had pleased the "Lady of the Garden" so to elect, and
there had been no dissenting voice--not even that of her brother Max.

Everybody else, it may be presumed, had retired to rest and dress for the
evening, which was always spent, when the weather was fair, upon the
porch, when Sally, alone, slipped quietly out of the door at the back of
the hall and betook herself over the grass, through the garden, to the
path which led up the slope to the woods. The path wound past the
orchard, past the strawberry field, and by the side of the pasture where
Cowslip and Whiteface were already turning their faces toward the bars.
Its appearance was an example of