I do not know." The door closed again.

Presently it opened and the maid knelt on the floor before him and counted the mushrooms one by one into a dish pan and in a few minutes brought back seven dollars and fifty cents.

The chagrined Harvester, feeling like a thief, put the money in his pocket, and turned away.
"I was to tell you," said she, "that you are to bring all you have to sell here, and the next time please go to the kitchen door." "Must be fond of mushrooms," said the disgruntled Harvester.
"They are a great delicacy, and there are visitors." The Harvester ached to set the girl to one side and walk through the house, but he did not dare; so he returned to the street, whistled to Betsy to come, and went to the next gate.

Here he hesitated.

Should he risk further snubbing at the front door or go back at once.