tablished. Beside, the Forks was a big
shipping centre for the fresh berries.

Uncle Henry bought crates and berry "cups," and sometimes the whole
family picked all day long in the berry pasture, taking with them a cold
luncheon, and eating it picnic fashion.

It was great fun, Nan thought, despite the fact that she often came home
so wearied that her only desire was to drop into bed. But the best part
of it, the saving grace of all this toil, was the fact that she was
earning money for herself! Account was faithfully kept of every cup of
berries she picked, and, when Uncle Henry received his check from the
produce merchant to whom he shipped the berries, Nan was paid her share.

These welcome earnings she saved for a particular purpose, and for no
selfish one, you may be sure. Little Margaret Llewellen still ran from
her and Nan wished to win the child back; so she schemed to do this.

After all, there was something rather pitiful in the nature of the child
who so disliked any face that was "wizzled," but loved those faces that
were fair and smooth.

Margaret only possessed a feeling that is quite common to humanity; she
being such a little savage, she openly expressed an emotion that many of
us have, but try to hide.

The Llewellen children picked berries, of course, as did most of the
other neighbors. Pine Camp was almost a "deserted village" during the
season when the sweet, blue fruit hung heavy on the bushes.

Sometimes the Sherwood party, and the Llewellens, would cross each
others' paths in the woods, or pastures; but little Margaret always
shrank into the background. If Nan tried to surprise her, the half wild
little thing would slip away into the deeper woods like one of its own
denizens.

Near the river one day Margaret had an experience that should have
taught her a lesson, however, regarding wandering alone in the forest.
And the adventure should, too, have taught the child not to shrink so
from an ugly face.

Nan had something very important to tell Margaret. Her savings had
amounted to quite a goodly sum and in the catalog of a mail-order
house she had found something of which she wished to secure Margaret's
opinion. The child, as usual, ran away when they met, and even Bob could
not bring her back.

"She's as obstinate as dad's old mu-el," grunted the disgusted boy.
"Can't do a thing with her, Nan Sherwood."

"I'll just get her myself!" declared Nan, laughing, and she started into
the thick