little crescent of pink color in one cheek as if an apple-blossom petal had fallen there. She looked at Marjorie for a moment, bent over the pail and carefully selected several large sprays of the berries which grew on such long stems that the cluster looked almost like a bouquet. Then she came toward Marjorie holding them out.
"But I have no money," said Marjorie.
"Oh, I don't want money," said the little girl. "I just wanted to give them to you."
Marjorie took them and patted the little girl's hand, lovingly. "Why did you want to give them to me, Dearie?" she asked.
The child looked at her earnestly, and shook her head. "I don't know. I guess it was just because your eyes kissed my cheek."
Marjorie laughed, and with her finger touched the little pink crescent. "I did just love it," she said, "but I didn't know the love showed through."
"It did," said the little girl, nodding seriously, "and I'm not nearly so tired as I was."
"What are you going to do with the berries?" asked Marjorie.
