en was surprised and aroused to find one
of them coming to the surface at her back door with so unusual a
request as Cynthia had repeated.

"Yes, ma'am;" Sandy replied, his strange eyes fixed upon the calm old
face.

"And what do you want?"

"I want to sell eight quarts of strawberries, ma'am. They are five
cents a quart; that's what they are giving down to The Forge."

"Then why don't you take them to The Forge?"

"The heat, ma'am, will wilt them. They are right fresh now--I thought
I'd give you-all the first chance."

"And you want money for the berries--and you in rags and starved, I
warrant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ann Walden grew more interested.

"Would you--take eggs for them?" she asked; "eggs are bringing twenty
cents a dozen now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"How do I know you are honest? How do I know the basket isn't stuffed
with leaves in the bottom? What's your name?"

"Sandy, ma'am. And please, ma'am, you can measure the berries."

"Ivy, bring the quart measure, and the earthen bowl."

When the implements were brought, Miss Walden took things in her own
hands, while Ivy, with the disdain of the old family black servant for
the poor white, stood by like an avenging Fate. The child Cynthia was
all a-tremble. She was young, lovely, and vital. Youth took up arms
for youth, and watched the outcome with jealous and anxious eyes.

"One, two, three----" the rich, fragrant fruit fell into the bowl with
luscious, soft thuds; the red juice oozed out like fresh blood.

"Five, six, seven--eight, and----"

"A lot left over, Aunt Ann, counting dents in the measure and all."

It was Cynthia who spoke, and her big, gray eyes were dancing in
triumph.

"More'n eight quarts, Aunt Ann."

"Umph!" ejaculated Ivy.

"Give the boy two dozen eggs and three over," commanded Miss Walden.
"Take them to Tod Greeley at the post office and tell him they are
Walden eggs."

After Sandy had departed Ivy aired her views.

"I reckon we-all better make jam of dem berries right soon. I clar I
allers 'spect to find a yaller streak in dem Morleys."

Cynthia was leaning against the kitchen table, her eyes shining and her
breath coming a bit quickly.

"Perhaps," she said, with the slow smile which curled the corners of
her mouth so deliciously, "perhaps the yellow streak in Sandy Morley
is--gold!"

That was the beginning of Sandy's first great inspiration. Again and
again he went to the Walden place with his wares and exc