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CHAPTER XVII

OME two weeks later the fruit was picked. A rollicking horde of noisy negroes swarmed into

This

the grove and swept it clean with cyclonic rapidity. Every tree showed a visible ladder and owned an invisible blackbird, who, with a canvas bag around his neck and curved clippers in his claws, fought through thorns for the fruit and got every last one. picking is a fine art. Not everybody with a ladder and shears can gather oranges for the market, for unless an orange shows a rudiment of a stem it is a cull, and if it shows more than a rudiment of a stem it is also a cull, the idea being that no stem makes a rotting spot and too much stem makes a dangerous spear.

The grove under invasion was very interesting to Laurie, who spent every minute she could spare in listening to the songs of the pickers. One moment the grove would be as silent as a primeval forest, then a hidden blackbird would boom out,

"Rock me in de ebberlastin' arms, brudders!"

And immediately the place became a grand choir of song in an anthem of real sublimity. From one group of trees would issue the plaintive wail "Rock me!" then another group of trees, tenor this time, would continue, "Rock me!" and lastly the whole would unite in a mighty chorus of religious frenzy:

"Rock me in de ebberlasting arms ob Jesus,

And Ah won't feel any danger ob de earth or ob de deep. Rock me in de ebberlasting arms ob Jesus,

And Ah'm ready, Lord, at any time to fall asleep!"

Or if it wasn't religion that kept them occupied it was repartee. For something very choice would issue from the heart of a tree, and then an earth-shaking guffaw of laughter would rise up on every side.

It was really lonely after they were gone. And the trees looked as ragged and limp and denuded of riches as if they had been dragged through the proverbial knothole, taking several days to erect their branches and straighten out their disarranged leaves, preparatory to the great business of putting on new bloom.

For a citrus tree keeps busy all the time, and February is its rush season. February in Florida is as near heaven as can be imagined. The air is perpetually drenched with hidden sweetness of newborn blossoms, and the earth is a solid blue carpet of long-stemmed violets, pale things of such exquisite beauty that one forgives them for being scentless. But such forgiveness does not need to be extended to the wild pawpaw, surely the most odorous shrub that ever covered a county with white loveliness and subtle perfume! And the generous extravagance of it! One does not have to search for the wild pawpaw, for it is everywhere, by roadsides and in pine forests, by the kitchen door or on the far margins of lakes, freely breathing out its magnolia essences by day and night, converting barren fields into royal conservatories of bloom.

It was on one of the most perfect of these perfect days that Mr. Herman Selig arrived at McAllister's grove to settle. And, claiming the right he had bargained for, Charles Roycroft made a third party at

the business interview. The three of them were at or rather in-Laurie's front gate a hospitable resting place with a roof on stilts, and furnished with rustic seats, these last being of great convenience to the ants and roaches.

"Mr. Selig, I suppose you know that oranges are selling in New York for four dollars a box, and in Chicago for four ninety?" was Roycroft's pointed beginning.

"So?" asked the Jew, with a shrug of his round shoulders. He hunted for the least knotty portion of the rustic bench, found it, sat down, and began rolling his invisible dough-ball between his palms. "But the young lady signed for sixty cents," he concluded, grunting it out firmly.

He was so bristly of chin and so small eyed as to look tremendously like a wild boar. Still rolling his dough-ball he darted a glance from the angry young man to the prettily embarrassed girl, evidently linking them together as partners in a planned attack, and ready to rout both of them with his documentary evidence.

"Mr. Selig is quite right. I did sign for sixty cents,” said the girl frankly.

This free admission obviously surprised the money lender. He had not been looking for it. It made matters easier than he expected.

"You see," he remarked, addressing Roycroft ironically.

"That was when fruit promised to glut the market,” said Roycroft, growing hotter with indignation. "If you hold Miss McAllister to such a contract it will be robbery!"

"Will be ... say id again."

"There is such a thing as suit for libel," then remarked Selig calmly.

"I care nothing for that," said Roycroft. "What I am talking of now is the price of oranges, and I repeat it would be robbery to hold Miss McAllister to her contract. Inasmuch as I recommended you to her, I feel responsible, and cannot stand quietly by and see her cheated."

"Say id again," demanded Selig as unctuously as if requiring encore for a delicious strain of music.

"Cheated," repeated Roycroft clearly.

"Perhaps the young lady has something to say for herself," suggested the Jew, turning his beads of eyes upon her and rolling his dough-ball very stealthily.

"Do, Miss Laurie," said Roycroft. "I entreat of you to stand up for your rights."

"I would if I had any to stand up for, but I haven't," she admitted. "I wouldn't back out of a contract for anything in the world. When I signed for sixty cents I did it without any urging, and moreover was awfully glad of the chance. Of course I'd just love to get more money-goodness knows I need it badly enough-but I haven't a shred of a right to expect it. And please don't blame yourself, Mr. Roycroft, and please don't blame Mr. Selig, for I, who am most concerned, don't blame him in the least. He took a chance, just as I did, and he has come out on top fairly."

"Can you say "fairly,'" asked Roycroft, in a gallop, "when he is paying you sixty cents for what he cannot buy elsewhere for five dollars? When the quarantine against canker and the recent freeze have shortened the market till fruit is worth its weight in gold? And you say 'fairly'!"

"And I really mean it, Mr. Roycroft," she put in gently. "For Mr. Selig didn't know these things any more than you or I did at the time he had me sign. I don't think there is anything to be gained by arguing further."

"Nothing at all," agreed the Jew.

"So if you will tell me what is due me, Mr. Selig

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"At sixty cents the box?" he asked, flinging away his dough-ball and getting ready to dive into one of his lock-box pockets.

"Yes. It is about two hundred and fifty dollars, isn't it?"

"I refuse to witness the proceedings," said Roycroft, done with the pair of them.

He flung open the gate, banged it shut, and walked off. Selig looked after him with a half smile on his unshaven thin lips.

"A puppy," remarked the Hebrew softly. "Wellborn and valuable, but young yet."

By the time he had extracted from his pocket a check, which he surveyed a moment and then tore into incredibly fine scraps, dropping them to the ground and rubbing them into the soil with his heel. He then handed Laurie a second one, which she took and read disbelievingly aloud.

"This is made out for eight hundred and seventyfive dollars and fifty cents," she said, getting ready to hand it back.

"Eight hundred and seventy-five dollars and fifty cents," said Selig, checking the figures off from an account book of his own. "Right."

"What for? And for whom?" she demanded blankly. She fingered the check as fearfully as though it were