“I believe you want a good time yourself. You ain’t never got over bein’ a boy.” Mrs. Hilton seemed much amused. “There, go if you want to an’ take ’em; they’ve got their summer hats an’ new dresses. I don’t know o’ nothin’ that stands in the way. I should sense it better if there was a circus or anythin’ to go to. Why don’t you wait an’ let the girls pick ’em some strawberries or nice ros’berries, and then they could take an’ sell ’em to the stores?” John Hilton reflected deeply. “I should like to get me some good yellow-turnip seed to plant late. I ain’t more ’n satisfied with what I’ve been gettin’ o’ late years o’ Ira Speed. An’ I’m goin’ to provide me with a good hoe; mine ’s gettin’ wore out an’ all shackly. I can’t seem to fix it good.” “Them’s excuses,” observed Mrs. Hilton, with friendly tolerance. “You just cover up the hoe with somethin’, if you get it—I would. Ira Speed ’s so jealous he’ll remember it of you this twenty year, your goin’ an’ buyin’ a new hoe o’ anybody but him.” “I’ve always thought ’twas a free country,” said John Hilton soberly. “I don’t want to vex Ira neither; he favors us all he can in trade. ’Tis difficult for him to spare a cent, but he’s as honest as daylight.” At this moment there was a sudden sound of young voices, and a pair of young figures came out from the shadow of the woods into the moonlighted open space. An old cock crowed loudly from his perch in the shed, as if he were a herald of royalty. The little girls were hand in hand, and a brisk young dog capered about them as they came. “Wa’n’t it dark gittin’ home through the woods this time o’ night?” asked the mother hastily, and not without reproach. “I don’t love to have you gone so late; mother an’ me was timid about ye, and you’ve kep’ Mis’ Becker’s folks up, I expect,” said their father regretfully. “I don’t want to have it said that my little girls ain’t got good manners.” “The teacher had a party,” chirped Susan Ellen, the elder of the two children. “Goin’ home from school she asked the Grover boys, an’ Mary an’ Sarah Speed. An’ Mis’ Becker was real pleasant to us: she passed round some cake, an’ handed us sap sugar on one of her best plates, an’ we played games an’ sung some pieces too. Mis’ Becker thought we did real well. I can pick out most of a tune on the cabinet organ; teacher says she’ll give me lessons.” “I want to know, dear!” exclaimed John Hilton. “Yes, an’ we played Copenhagen, an’ took sides spellin’, an’ Katy beat everybody spellin’ there was there.” Katy had not spoken; she was not so strong as her sister, and while Susan Ellen stood a step or two away addressing her eager little audience, Katy had seated herself close to her father on the doorstep. He put his arm around her shoulders, and drew her close to his side, where she stayed. “Ain’t you got nothin’ to tell, daughter?” he asked, looking down fondly; and Katy gave a pleased little sigh for answer.