"The idea of mentioning steak-- But here," she
broke off, seizing Grace's hand and dragging her toward the woods,
"come with me and pick berries if you value your life. Lucky we
brought those tin pails along."
"But why," protested Grace patiently, as she was dragged along,
"should we want to pick berries?"
"To eat," replied Mollie, attacking a bush that was fairly black with
the luscious ripe fruit. "And besides," she added, lowering her voice
to a confidential pitch, "Mrs. Irving said that if she could find some
flour and baking powder in the lodge she would make us a steamed
blackberry pudding for supper."
Grace stared for a moment then, without another word, set to work on
the loaded bush.
"You might have told me that before," she grumbled, her mouth full of
berries. "You always did have a mean disposition, Mollie."
To which Mollie's only reply was a chuckle and a sly wink at Betty,
who was working close at her side.
They worked on happily for a few minutes, then suddenly Amy
straightened up and stood quiet as though she were listening to
something.
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