Page 108 - sons-and-lovers

there was the joy of finding something, the joy of accepting
something straight from the hand of Nature, and the joy of
contributing to the family exchequer.
But the most important harvest, after gleaning for fru-
menty, was the blackberries. Mrs. Morel must buy fruit for
puddings on the Saturdays; also she liked blackberries. So
Paul and Arthur scoured the coppices and woods and old
quarries, so long as a blackberry was to be found, every
week-end going on their search. In that region of mining
villages blackberries became a comparative rarity. But Paul
hunted far and wide. He loved being out in the country,
among the bushes. But he also could not bear to go home to
his mother empty. That, he felt, would disappoint her, and
he would have died rather.
‘Good gracious!’ she would exclaim as the lads came in,
late, and tired to death, and hungry, ‘wherever have you
been?’
‘Well,’ replied Paul, ‘there wasn’t any, so we went over
Misk Hills. And look here, our mother!’
She peeped into the basket.
‘Now, those are fine ones!’ she exclaimed.
‘And there’s over two pounds-isn’t there over two
pounds’?
She tried the basket.
‘Yes,’ she answered doubtfully.
Then Paul fished out a little spray. He always brought her
one spray, the best he could find.
‘Pretty!’ she said, in a curious tone, of a woman accept-
ing a love-token.

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