"Han't Miss Fortune showed you? Well, it's time you'd know. Sam, take that little basket and go fill it at the bin; I guess you know where they be, for I believe you put 'em there." Sam went into the cellar, and presently returned with the basket nicely filled. He handed it to Ellen. "Are all these for me?" she said in surprise. "Every one on 'em," said Mr. Van Brunt. "But I don't like to," said Ellen; — "what will Aunt Fortune say?" "She won't say a word," said Mr. Van Brunt; "and don't you say a word neither, but whenever you want apples, just go to the bin and take 'em. I give you leave. It's right at the end of the far cellar, at the left-hand corner; there are the bins and all sorts of apples in 'em. You've got a pretty variety there, han't you?" "Oh! all sorts," said Ellen — "and what beauties! and I love apples very much — red, and yellow, and speckled, and green — what a great monster!" "That's a Swar; that ain't as good as most of the others; — those are Seek-no-furthers." "Seek-no-further!" said Ellen; "what a funny name. It ought to be a mighty good apple. _I_ shall seek no further, at any rate. What is this?" "That's as good an apple as you've got in the basket; that's a real Orson pippin — a very fine kind. I'll fetch you some up from home some day, though, that are better than the best of these." The pork was all packed; the kettle was lifted off the fire; Mr. Van Brunt was wiping his hands from the salt. "And now, I suppose I must go," said Ellen, with a little sigh. "Why, _I_ must go," said he; "so I suppose I may as well let you out of your tent first." "I have had such a nice time," said Ellen; "I had got so tired of doing nothing up-stairs. I am _very_ much obliged to you, Mr. Van Brunt. But," said she, stopping as she had taken up her basket to go, "aren't you going to put the hams in the pickle?" "No," said he, laughing, "it must wait to get cold first. But you'll make a capital farmer's wife, there's no mistake." Ellen blushed, and ran up stairs with her apples. To bestow them safely in her closet was her first care; the rest of the morning was spent in increasing weariness and listlessness. She had brought down her little hymn-book, thinking to amuse herself with learning a hymn, but it would not do; eyes and head both refused their part of the work; and when at last Mr. Van Brunt came in to a late dinner, he found Ellen seated flat on the hearth before the fire, her right arm curled round the hard wooden bottom of one of the chairs, and her head pillowed upon that, fast asleep. "Bless my soul!" said Mr. Van Brunt, "what's become of that 'ere rocking-cheer?" "It's upstairs, I suppose. You can fetch it if you've a mind to," answered Miss Fortune, drily enough.