Strawberry Girl Read Online Free
Author: Lois Lenski
grove, pulling leaves and bark off the trees. Buzz discovered them while he was stripping Spanish moss off the topmost branches. He slid down and gave chase, whooping loudly. His shouts brought the rest of the family
Off near the woods, Birdie found little Essie Slater. She had a stick in her hand and was whacking the back of a poor skinny beast, that kept on eating.
"Ole cow won't go home," wailed Essie.
The child's pale hair was more tousled than ever, and her face dirtier. She was the picture of distress. Birdie wiped off her tears, took her to the back porch and washed her face in the washbasin. Then she sent her home through the woods.
Not till then did she notice that her young orange tree was nibbled off to the ground. She saw hoof prints in the soft earth where water had dripped from the pump. One of the Slater cows had gone home by way of the Boyers' backyard. It had stopped long enough to drink from the trough and eat up the fresh green leaves and branches of the young orange tree.
This time Birdie did not cry. She was too angry to cry.
"We belong to build us a fence," said Birdie. "We belong to fence in the grove and all the fields, Pa."
"You mighty right, gal,'' said Pa.
It was after the first rails had been split and laid along the outside edge of the strawberry field that Shoestring came along.
"How you like our new fence?" asked Birdie.
"Fence? What fence?"
Birdie pointed to the rails.
"What you fencin' for?" growled Shoestring.
"What we fencin' for? To keep the Slater hosses and cows out, that's what for!" Birdie's voice rose in shrill anger. "See what that mean little ole cowhorse o' yours done done! See what he laid down in the middle of our strawberry field and wallered?"
Shoestring began to grin.
"What's funny?" demanded the girl.
"Wal--the bed was so sorry-lookin'," explained Shoe- string, "nothin' wouldn't make there, the strawberry plants was all dried up to nothin'--even my ole cowhorse knowed it, so he jest thought it was a good place to waller in!"
Birdie glared.
"Think you're funny, don't you?"
"No," said Shoestring. His voice was serious. "I mean it. Strawberries won't never make there." "Not less'n the neighbors keep their critters our," answered Birdie. "That's why we're tixin' to put up a fence. Were fencin' every acre of ground we own, every inch of field and woods and pasture. See them rails! They're gonna be a fence. Soon as Pa and Buzz git more split, there's gonna be more fence. Hear!"
"Yes," said the boy When he spoke again, it was in a low, quiet voice. "I wisht you wouldn't fence. If there's ary thing my Pa hates, hit's a fence." He shook his head, frowning. "Aint nothin' riles Pa more'n a fence."
Birdie stared at him. "Your Pa's got nary thing to do with it."
"Ain't he!" Shoestring looked at her earnestly. "I want to tell you somethin'. Do your Pa fence his fields in, my Pa will make trouble for him. I jest want you to know, that's all."
"What kind o' trouble!" asked Birdie in a scared voice.
"Cant never tell when it's Pa," Shoestring said slowly. "Pa's mean, and when he's drunk, you can't never tell what he'll do."
"He gits ... drunk!" asked Birdie.
The boy turned and walked away. Birdie stared after him.
CHAPTER III
School
" Is it a fur piece?" asked Dovey.
"Not so powerful fur," answered Birdie.
She grasped Dovey's hand tightly and they hurried along. Dan came behind with the dinner bucket. Their path wound in and out through the scrub, around palmetto clumps, over trunks of fallen trees, under dwarf pines and oaks. The sand was hard and hoc under their feet, the sun still hotter on their heads.
They came to the flatwoods at last, where their feet made a soft parter on the pine-needle path. Innumerable tall straight trunks of giant pines rose up on all sides to join their tops in a green roof overhead. The sun made a pattern of light and shadow on the stubbly grass beneath. Here and there were cows grazing, or lying down, chewing their cud.
"Is it a
Off near the woods, Birdie found little Essie Slater. She had a stick in her hand and was whacking the back of a poor skinny beast, that kept on eating.
"Ole cow won't go home," wailed Essie.
The child's pale hair was more tousled than ever, and her face dirtier. She was the picture of distress. Birdie wiped off her tears, took her to the back porch and washed her face in the washbasin. Then she sent her home through the woods.
Not till then did she notice that her young orange tree was nibbled off to the ground. She saw hoof prints in the soft earth where water had dripped from the pump. One of the Slater cows had gone home by way of the Boyers' backyard. It had stopped long enough to drink from the trough and eat up the fresh green leaves and branches of the young orange tree.
This time Birdie did not cry. She was too angry to cry.
"We belong to build us a fence," said Birdie. "We belong to fence in the grove and all the fields, Pa."
"You mighty right, gal,'' said Pa.
It was after the first rails had been split and laid along the outside edge of the strawberry field that Shoestring came along.
"How you like our new fence?" asked Birdie.
"Fence? What fence?"
Birdie pointed to the rails.
"What you fencin' for?" growled Shoestring.
"What we fencin' for? To keep the Slater hosses and cows out, that's what for!" Birdie's voice rose in shrill anger. "See what that mean little ole cowhorse o' yours done done! See what he laid down in the middle of our strawberry field and wallered?"
Shoestring began to grin.
"What's funny?" demanded the girl.
"Wal--the bed was so sorry-lookin'," explained Shoe- string, "nothin' wouldn't make there, the strawberry plants was all dried up to nothin'--even my ole cowhorse knowed it, so he jest thought it was a good place to waller in!"
Birdie glared.
"Think you're funny, don't you?"
"No," said Shoestring. His voice was serious. "I mean it. Strawberries won't never make there." "Not less'n the neighbors keep their critters our," answered Birdie. "That's why we're tixin' to put up a fence. Were fencin' every acre of ground we own, every inch of field and woods and pasture. See them rails! They're gonna be a fence. Soon as Pa and Buzz git more split, there's gonna be more fence. Hear!"
"Yes," said the boy When he spoke again, it was in a low, quiet voice. "I wisht you wouldn't fence. If there's ary thing my Pa hates, hit's a fence." He shook his head, frowning. "Aint nothin' riles Pa more'n a fence."
Birdie stared at him. "Your Pa's got nary thing to do with it."
"Ain't he!" Shoestring looked at her earnestly. "I want to tell you somethin'. Do your Pa fence his fields in, my Pa will make trouble for him. I jest want you to know, that's all."
"What kind o' trouble!" asked Birdie in a scared voice.
"Cant never tell when it's Pa," Shoestring said slowly. "Pa's mean, and when he's drunk, you can't never tell what he'll do."
"He gits ... drunk!" asked Birdie.
The boy turned and walked away. Birdie stared after him.
CHAPTER III
School
" Is it a fur piece?" asked Dovey.
"Not so powerful fur," answered Birdie.
She grasped Dovey's hand tightly and they hurried along. Dan came behind with the dinner bucket. Their path wound in and out through the scrub, around palmetto clumps, over trunks of fallen trees, under dwarf pines and oaks. The sand was hard and hoc under their feet, the sun still hotter on their heads.
They came to the flatwoods at last, where their feet made a soft parter on the pine-needle path. Innumerable tall straight trunks of giant pines rose up on all sides to join their tops in a green roof overhead. The sun made a pattern of light and shadow on the stubbly grass beneath. Here and there were cows grazing, or lying down, chewing their cud.
"Is it a
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