Jennie tried her best to draw out the thorn, but only succeeded in breaking it off.

Then, with a clumsy pin, she made a voyage of discovery round and round in the soft flesh of Dotty's foot, never hitting the thorn, or coming anywhere near it.
"O, dear!" said Jennie, petulantly; "we've wasted half an hour! What's the use for you to be always getting into trouble?
A great many berries we shall have at this rate! and I was going to ask my mamma to let me have a party." "There!" said Dotty, bravely, "I'm going right along now, and no more fuss about it." It was hard work; Dotty limped badly; and all the while the cruel thorn was triumphantly working its way farther in.

The Crossman orchard was not very far away now; but when they had reached it, and had crept under the fence, why, where were the strawberries?
What the boys had not gathered they had trampled down; and the truth was, there had been very few in the first place.

There was nothing to do but pluck here and there a stray berry, and make the most of it.
"This is what I call a shame," sighed Jennie; "and look at the sky; it's growing as black as a pickpocket." "Why, yes," moaned Dotty; "how fast that sun has gone down!" But this was a mistake.

It was only six o'clock.