He picked up a few stray sticks on the way, ostentatiously, as if that were his errand.
Rose was spreading out the lengths of linen in a wide sunny space just outside the shade of the cherry-trees.

Her father paused, tilted his head back, and eyed the trees with a look of innocent reflection.
Rose glanced at him, then she went on with her work.
"Guess there's goin' to be considerable many cherries this year," remarked her father, in an affable and confidential tone.
"I guess so," replied Rose, shortly, and she flapped out an end of the wet linen.

The cherries were a sore subject with her.
"I guess there's goin' to be more than common," said Silas, still gazing up at the green boughs full of green fruit clusters.
Rose made no reply; she was down on her knees in the grass stretching the linen straight.
"I've been thinkin'," her father continued, slowly, "that--mebbe you'd like to have a little--party, an' ask some of the young folks, an' eat some of 'em when they get ripe.

You could have four trees to pick off of." "I should think we'd had enough of cherry parties," Rose cried out, bitterly.
"I didn't say nothin' about havin' 'em pay anything," said her father.
Rose straightened herself and looked at him incredulously.

"Do you mean it, father ?" said she.
"'Ain't I jest said you might, if you wanted to ?" "Do you mean to have them come here and not pay, father ?" "There ain't no use tryin' to sell any of 'em," replied Silas.