Both children came to their feet, one saying, "Marmaduke!" the other, "Mr.Dinwiddie!" "What do two such mature people do when they get together?
I should like to know," said the young man as he reached the top.
"Talking, sir," said Daisy.
"Picking wintergreens," said the other, in a breath.
"Talking! I dare say you do.

If both things have gone on together, like your answers," said he, helping himself out of Nora's stock of wintergreens,--"you must have had a basket of talk." "_That_ basket isn't full, sir," said Daisy.
"My dear," said Mr.Dinwiddie, diving again into his sister's, "that basket never is; there's a hole in it somewhere." "You are making a hole in mine," said Nora, laughing.

"You sha'n't do it, Marmaduke; they're for old Mrs.Holt, you know." "Come along, then," said her brother; "as long as the baskets are not full the fun isn't over." And soon the children thought so.

Such a scrambling to new places as they had then; such a harvest of finest wintergreens as they all gathered together; till Nora took off her sunbonnet to serve for a new basket.

And such joyous, lively, rambling talk as they had all three, too; it was twice as good as they had before; or as Daisy, who was quiet in her epithets, phrased it, "it was _nice_." By Mr.Dinwiddie's help they could go faster and further than they could alone; he could jump them up and down the rocks, and tell them where it was no use to waste their time in trying to go.
They had wandered, as it seemed to them, a long distance--they knew not whither--when the children's exclamations suddenly burst forth, as they came out upon the Sunday-school place again.