"Constance!" said Mrs. Evelyn, from the piazza, "don't take
that. I dare say they are for Mr. Sweet."

"Well, Mamma," said Constance, with great equanimity, "Mr.
Sweet gets them for me, and I only save him the trouble of
spoiling them. My taste leads me to prefer the simplicity of
primitive arrangements this morning."

"Young man!" called out the landlady's reproving voice, "wont
you never recollect to bring that basket round the back way!"

" 't aint no handier than this way," said Philetus, with so
much belligerent demonstration, that the landlady thought
best, in presence of her guests, to give over the question.

"Where do you get them?" said Mrs. Evelyn.

"How?" said Philetus.

"Where do they come from? Are they fresh picked?"

"Just afore I started."

"Started from where?" said a gentleman, standing by Mrs.
Evelyn.

"From Mr. Rossitur's, down to Queechy."

"Mr. Rossitur's!" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Does he send them here?"