m that filled the
blackberry field; most sweet, most evanishing, most significant. Oddly,
many people do not know it. But it must be that their life has never
brought them within reach of its charm.

Two people in the field never knew how the shadows grew long that day.
No, not even though their colloquy was soon interrupted, and by
Gertrude Masters herself. She thenceforth claimed, and received, Mr.
Knowlton's whole services; while Diana in her turn was assisted by Will
Flandin, a young farmer of Pleasant Valley, who gave his hands and his
arms to her help. It did not make much difference to Diana; it might
have been an ogre, and she would not have cared; so she hardly noticed
that Will, who had a glib enough tongue in ordinary, was now very
silent. Diana herself said nothing. She was listening to hidden music.

"There's a wonderful lot o' blackberries on Bear Hill," Will remarked
at last.

"Yes," said Diana.

"Well, I guess we've cleaned 'em out pretty well for this time,"
pursued he.

"Have we?" said Diana.

"Why, all these folks ha' been pickin' all day; I should _think_ they'd
ha' made a hole in 'em."

Silence fell again.

"How's the roads down your way?" began Mr. Flandin again.

"The roads? pretty well, I believe."

"They're awful, up this way, to Bear Hill. I say, Miss Starling, how do
you s'pose those people lives, in that village?"

"How do they? I don't know."

"Beats me! they don't raise nothin', and they don't kill
nothin',--'thout it's other folks's; and what they live on I would jest
like to know. Mother, she thinks a minister had ought to go and settle
down among 'em; but I tell her I'd like to see what a sheriff 'd do
fust. They don't live in no reg'lar good way, that's a fact."

"Poor people!" said Diana. "They don't even know enough to pick
blackberries."

"They hadn't no need to be so poor ef they would work," said the young
man. "But I s'pose you've got a kind word for every one, ha'n't you,
Miss Starling?"

"Diany," said the voice of Joe Bartlett, who was pushing his way
towards her through the bushes,--"Diany! Here you be! Here's your
mother lookin' for ye. Got all you want? It's gettin' time to make
tracks for hum. The sun's consid'able low."

"I'm ready, Joe."

"Give me one o' them pails, then, and we'll try ef we kin git through
these pesky bushes. I vow! I wouldn't like to take Bear Hill for a
farm, not on a long lease."

They pushed and fought their way in the thicke