"
"No, you won't have time--it's after five already, and I want to
make a deep-dish peach pie. I hear Rev. MacGill's especially fond of
it. You can take Gypsy home after supper. Now hurry up!--I'm
behindhand already."
So Missy led Gypsy into the yard and took the pail her mother
brought out to her.
"The peaches aren't quite ripe," said mother, with a little worried
pucker, "but they'll have to do. They have some lovely peaches at
Picker's, but papa won't hear of my trading at Picker's any more."
Missy thought it silly of her father to have curtailed trading at
Picker's--she missed Arthur's daily visit to the kitchen door with
the delivery-basket--merely because Mr. Picker had beaten father for
election on the Board of Aldermen. Father explained it was a larger
issue than party politics; even had Picker been a Republican he'd
have fought him, he said, for everyone knew Picker was abetting the
Waterworks graft. But Missy didn't see why that should keep him from
buying things from Picker's which mother really needed; mother said
it was "cutting off your nose to spite your face.
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