her hand a little wooden butter-basket trimmed with
fringed tissue paper, which she must have brought home
from some church supper. "You'll have to have something
to put them in," she said, ignoring the yawning willow
basket which stood empty on Thor's feet. "You can have
this, and you needn't mind about returning it. You know
about not trampling the vines, don't you?"

Mrs. Archie went back into the house and Thea leaned
over in the sand and picked a few strawberries. As soon as
she was sure that she was not going to cry, she tossed the
little basket into the big one and ran Thor's buggy along
the gravel walk and out of the gate as fast as she could push
it. She was angry, and she was ashamed for Dr. Archie. She
could not help thinking how uncomfortable he would be if
he ever found out about it. Little things like that were the
ones that cut him most. She slunk home by the back way,
and again almost cried when she told her mother about it.

Mrs. Kronborg was frying doughnuts for her husband's
supper. She laughed as she dropped a new lot into the hot
grease. "It's wonderful, the way some people are made,"
she declared. "But I wouldn't let that upset me if I was
you. Think what it would be to live with it all the time.
You look in the black pocketbook inside my handbag and
take a dime and go downtown and get an ice-cream soda.
That'll make you feel better. Thor can have a little of the
ice-cream if you feed it to him with a spoon. He likes it,
don't you, son?" She stooped to wipe his chin. Thor was
only six months old and inarticulate, but it was quite true