This was favorably received, for they were all--even Rose--children enough to enjoy a long day in the autumn woods. We all know that willing hands make light work, and the morning's task was quickly done; a basket of lunch was put up, and the girls, with the baby, were soon scampering through the meadow toward the little creek, whose borders for miles around were famous for their wealth of nuts. The harvest was indeed bountiful, and they worked merrily and untiringly until bags and baskets were filled and deposited by a great log, where their brother would next day find them and cart them home. So busy and happy had they been that they could scarcely believe that the day had ended until the woods began to fill with shadows, and the baby declared he was sleepy and wanted his supper. "Who would ever have believed it so late?" cried Rose, peering from under the low boughs toward the west, "and there are all those cows to milk and the chickens to feed! Come, come, girls, not another nut; we'll have to go home at once if we want to get through before dark. Cassie, you are the quickest, do run ahead and let the bars down, and get the pails ready, and I'll carry the baby--he's so tired, poor little fellow, he can hardly stand. Florence can start the fire and begin the supper while you and I do the chores." Away sped the light-footed Cassie, while the others made such haste as they could with the tired baby, who wept in a self-pitying way upon Rose's shoulder. "Oo dirls is 'tarvin' me an' walkin' me most to pieces, an' I want my mover," he wailed, as he finally dozed off. Rose laid him upon the lounge in the cozy sitting-room, and, waiting for a moment to see Florence started with the supper, for which they were all ready, hurried away to the barn, where she could hear Cassie whistling, and talking to the cows as she milked. Out from the kitchen's open door appetizing odors of coffee and frying ham stole to greet the two girls, as they came towards the house with their brimming pails of frothy milk. "It smells good," said Cassie, "and I'm as hungry as a tramp----" "Oh, Cassie! why did you say that? I've just been trying not to think about tramps. I always feel creepy when I'm about the barn after dark, anyway, and now----" "Well, my saying that won't bring any along." "They are positively the only things in the world that I'm afraid of." "Well, then, _I'm_ not afraid of them. And suppose one should come? Surely three great stout girls ought to be able to take care of themselves." "Oh, Cassie, dear, please stop talking about them! I feel as if one were stepping on my heels. Let's run." "And spill the milk? Not much." The kitchen looked so bright and cheery as they entered it that Rose seemed to leave her fears outside with the duskiness, and by the time she had strained the milk and put it away, she had forgotten that tramps existed.