It was now the time of the yearly gathering of
bilberries on the hills; and tribes of women and children ascended to the
tableland from all the villages round. It was the pleasantest work of the
year; and Martha, who had never missed the bilberry season since she
could remember, was not likely to miss it now. Even little Nan could help
to pick the berries, and she and Martha were out on the hillsides all the
livelong summer day. Their dwelling on the spot gave them a good
advantage over those who lived down in Botfield; and each day, before any
of the others could reach the best bilberry-wires, they had already
picked a quart of the small purple berries, fresh and cool with the dew
of the morning. Only the poor old grandfather had to be left at home
alone, with his dinner put ready for him, which he was apt to eat up long
before the proper dinner-hour came; and then he had to wait until Stephen
returned from his work, or Martha and little Nan were driven home by the
August thunderstorms. Martha was wonderfully successful this year, and
gained more money by selling her bilberries than she thought necessary to
show to Stephen; though, on his part, he always brought her every penny
of his wages.
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