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"Who is she?" "The lady what lives on the farm right back of ours." "Did she tell you to come and see us?" "Oh, no! She said not to, but she doesn't know anything about our mordige, so while she was in the store we hustled over after the money." "Who did send you?" "Why, nobody. We came all by ourselves." "Hm, I thought so. Is this mordige money to buy candy and dolls with?"
Grinnell said you didn't bother with such little things; and anyway, I have bought eight new ones already, so we don't need hens so much as we do that mordige. Is your name Mr. Swift?" "No, I am the other fellow Smart." "Hm, I thought it would be like that." "Like what?" "Why, that your names wouldn't fit. I told Mrs. Grinnell I bet Mr. Smart would be stupider than a stump and Mr.
She ain't very dirty, and I'll keep her covered up out of sight. And now, Allee, don't you say a word to anyone about it, but I begged Mrs. Grinnell to take me. I want to get some money to buy back that mordige of ours from old Skinflint. Mind you keep it secret!" "I will," promised Allee readily, for with her Peace's very wish was law. "There is Mrs. Grinnell all harnessed and waiting. Hurry up!
"Peace!" "Now, Gail, please don't scold! This is the last day in the little brown house, you know " "What!" burst forth, a chorus of dismayed voices. "Ain't that mordige settled yet?" demanded Peace. "Oh, yes. I had a long talk with Mr. Strong, and we settled that question forever and all time, I hope. Nevertheless, you aren't going to stay here any longer."
Without reply, the man called Campbell drew a silver coin from his pocket and extended it toward trembling Peace, but she shook her head, gulping out, "It will take heaps more than that. Old Skinflint has got the mordige on our farm and won't give it up. I want money enough to buy it back, so's we can still go on living there." "Oh!" shouted the sharp-voiced man, while Mr.
That face would scare the tramps away." "Oh, Mr. Strong," she cried, catching his hand and pulling him down beside her, "we are in the worst fix you ever heard. I knocked old Skinflint's bull's horn off pawing red rags in the raspberry patch so Faith could have some sour jelly for her jelly rolls, and to pay me for that he won't give us back our mordige.
Len and Cecile tease me dreadfully, Hector I predominate with all my heart and I can't abide Mr. Hardman. He isn't square. He shouldn't have given old Skinflint the mordige. It b'longs to us. Oh, dear, I'll never pick raspberries again! That bull has made more fuss than any other person I know."
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