begin to water. "The idea of mentioning steak--But here," she broke off,
seizing Grace's hand and dragging her toward the woods, "come with me and
pick berries if you value your life. Lucky we brought those tin pails
along."

"But why," protested Grace patiently, as she was dragged along, "should we
want to pick berries?"

"To eat," replied Mollie, attacking a bush that was fairly black with the
luscious ripe fruit. "And besides," she added, lowering her voice to a
confidential pitch, "Mrs. Irving said that if she could find some flour
and baking powder in the lodge she would make us a steamed blackberry
pudding for supper."

Grace stared for a moment then, without another word, set to work on the
loaded bush.

"You might have told me that before," she grumbled, her mouth full of
berries. "You always did have a mean disposition, Mollie."

To which Mollie's only reply was a chuckle and a sly wink at Betty, who
was working close at her side.

They worked on happily for a few minutes, then suddenly Amy straightened
up and stood quiet as though she were listening to something.

The girls, whose nerves were still a little on edge from their recent
adventure, demanded to know in no uncertain tones what was the matter with
her.