he won't give me any more time. And all
this fuss on account of those berries. Plague take the old bushes, and
you, too, you little rascal!"

Peace drew herself up haughtily and with eyes flashing fire, demanded,
"Do you mean that?"

"Every word. I'd just like the chance to give you a good trouncing."

He was not in earnest, but he looked so harsh and stern that Peace for
a moment trembled in her shoes. Then all her natural childish passion
was aroused, and stamping her foot, she declared wrathfully, "I'll not
be friends with you any longer. You said I could have the berries, and
the deacon said I could have all I could get. You aren't being square
with me, and I won't have anything more to do with you." She turned on
her heel and flung herself indignantly across the garden to the road,
leaving Mr. Hartman still leaning against the fence, lost in thought.

The forest was her favorite retreat in times of trouble, but today the
cool shadows and whispering trees did not soothe her, and after
wandering about until the afternoon began to wane, she started for home,
still wrathful and passionate, for she felt that Mr. Hartman had been
very unfair in his treatment of her.

While she was still some distance from the little brown house, a
carriage drove up to their gate, and stopped, but she did not recognize
the rig, nor could she make out who had alighted; and for the time
being, her rage was lost in her greater curiosity. "Wonder who it can
be," she said to herself. "It isn't the doctor's horse, nor the Judge's
buggy, and that woman is too little for Mrs. Lacy or Mrs. Edwards. She's
got a big bundle. Maybe it's the Salvation Army bringing us some old
duds like they did the German family last week. But s'posing it was some
rich aunt or grandmother we didn't know we had. It's awfully hard not to
have any relations like other folks. I am going through old
Cross-Patch's cornfield, 'stead of running clear around by the road."

She crawled between the strands of barbed wire and ran swiftly down the
rows of rustling, whispering, silken corn, thinking only of the
unexpected visitors at home, until a big barn loomed up before her,
shining in its newness. Then she stopped abruptly, having suddenly
remembered her grievance.

"He _isn't_ square!" she cried. "I'd like to fight him good. I'll get
even with you some day, Mr. Hardman! Bet he's going to paint his old
barn. Here is a whole ocean of red paint in this pail, and there is a