Both children came to their feet, one saying,
"Marmaduke!" the other, "Mr. Dinwiddie!"
"What do two such mature people do when they get together? I should like
to know," said the young man as he reached the top.
"Talking, sir," said Daisy.
"Picking wintergreens," said the other, in a breath.
"Talking! I dare say you do. If both things have gone on together, like
your answers," said he, helping himself out of Nora's stock of
wintergreens,--"you must have had a basket of talk."
"_That_ basket isn't full, sir," said Daisy.
"My dear," said Mr. Dinwiddie, diving again into his sister's, "that
basket never is; there's a hole in it somewhere."
"You are making a hole in mine," said Nora, laughing. "You sha'n't do
it, Marmaduke; they're for old Mrs. Holt, you know."
"Come along, then," said her brother; "as long as the baskets are not
full the fun isn't over."
And soon the children thought so. Such a scrambling to new places as
they had then; such a harvest of finest wintergreens as they all
gathered together; till Nora took off her sunbonnet to serve for a new
basket.
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