der and his shout of delight brought the others.
"You never saw such big ones!" cried Twaddles gleefully. "Meg, look!"
"They are big," agreed Meg. "Come on, Bobby, let's go on the other side. Mr. Simmonds won't care."
Dot was already under the fence, and Meg and Bobby stooped down and crawled under after her.
The four little figures in blue overalls began to pick industriously. The berries were thick and juicy, and the bottoms of the tin pails were covered in a few minutes. Meg had just stopped to pull a briar from her thumb when she heard a bellow behind her.
There stood the bull, in the middle of the field, his head down between his knees, his feet pawing the ground, and his angry eyes glaring at the berry pickers.
"Oh, Bobby! The bull!" gasped Meg. "Run, Dot and Twaddles!"
