"I want to give him more than his fare. So I shall slip my cigar-case into the pocket of this coat," whispered Uncle Ben, as Joel was busy drawing up the boat and getting a stone or two to facilitate the ladies' landing dryshod. "I shall leave my book for him. He was poring over an old newspaper, as if hungry for reading. The dash and daring of 'John Brent' will charm him; and the sketch of Winthrop's life in the beginning will add to its value, I know." And, hastily scribbling his name in it, Rose slipped the book under the coat. But Milly, seeing how old that coat was, guessed that Joel gave his earnings to the old woman to whom he dutifully played a son's part. Writing on a card "For Tom's mother and mate," she folded a five-dollar bill round it, fastened it with a little pearl cross from her own throat, and laid it in the book. Then all landed, and, with a cordial hand-shake and many thanks, left Joel to row away, quite unconscious that he was a hero in the pretty girl's eyes, till he found the tokens of his passengers' regard and respect. "Now that is an adventure after my own heart," said Rose, as they rustled along the grassy path toward the misty cloud that hung over the Fall. "We have nothing but sandwiches and sherry for lunch, unless we find a house and add to our stores," said Uncle Ben, beginning to feel hungry and wondering how far his provisions would go. "There is a little girl picking berries. Call her and buy some," suggested Milly, who had her doubts about the state of the sandwiches, as the knapsack had been sat upon. A shout from Uncle Ben caused the little girl to approach,--timidly at first; but, being joined by a boy, her courage rose, and when the idea of a "trade" was impressed upon their minds fear was forgotten and the Yankee appeared. "How much a quart?" "Eight cents, sir." "But that birch-bark thing is not full." "Now it is," and the barefooted, tow-headed lad filled the girl's pannier from his own. "Here's chivalry for you," said Rose, watching the children with interest; for the girl was pretty, and the boy evidently not her brother. "You don't pick as fast as she does," said Milly, while Uncle Ben hunted up the money. "He's done his stent, and was helpin' me. I'll have to pick a lot before I git my quarter," said the girl, defending her friend, in spite of her bashfulness. "Must you each make a quarter?" "Yes'm. We don't have to; but we wanter, so we can go to the circus that's comin' to-morrer. He made his'n ketchin' trout; so he's helpin' me," explained the girl. "Where do you get your trout?" asked Uncle Ben, sniffing the air, as if he already smelt them cooking. "In the brook. I ain't sold mine yet. Want to buy 'em? Six big ones for a quarter," said the boy, seeing hunger in the good man's eye and many greenbacks in the corpulent purse. "Yes, if you'll clean them." "But, Uncle, we can't cook them," began Milly.