s were full of
flowers, the air was saturated with sweet odors and sunshine and songs
of birds. A messenger of good cheer came to us also by the post in the
shape of a cheque from the dealer to whom we had sent our oranges.

"Forty dollars from a single tree!" said Hope exultantly, holding up the
slip of paper. "And that after we had eaten from it steadily for three
months!"

"The tree is an eighteen-year-old seedling, Spafford says," said the
Invalid, looking at the document with interest. "If our thousand do as
well in fourteen years, Hope, we may give up planting cabbages, eh?"

"The price will be down to nothing by that time," said the Pessimist,
not without a shade of excitement, which he endeavored to conceal, as he
looked at the cheque. "Still, it can't go below a certain point, I
suppose. The newspapers are sounder on the orange question than on some
others, I fancy."

One would have thought that we had never seen a cheque for forty dollars
before, so much did we rejoice over this one, and so many hopes of
future emolument did we build upon it.

[Illustration: PACKING.]

"What's the trouble with the cucumbers, Spafford?" asked the Pessimist
as we passed by them one evening on our way up from the little wharf
where we had left our sailboat.

"T'ink it de sandemanders, sah. Dey done burrow under dat whole
cucumber-patch--eat all the roots. Cucumbers can't grow widout roots,
sah."

"But the Florida _Agriculturalist_ says that salamanders don't eat
roots," said Hope: "they only eat grubs and worms."

Spafford shook his head without vouchsafing a reply.

"The grubs and worms probably ate the roots, and then the salamanders
ate them," observed the Pessimist. "That is poetical justice, certainly.
If we could only eat the salamanders now, the retribution would be
complete."

"Sandemanders ain't no 'count to eat," said old man Spafford. "Dey ain't
many critters good to eat. De meat I likes best is wile-cat."

"Wild-cat, uncle!" exclaimed Merry.

"Do you mean to say you eat such things as that?"

"Why, missy," replied the old man seriously, "a wile-cat's 'most de
properest varmint going. Nebber eats not'ing but young pigs and birds
and rabbits, and sich. Yankee folks likes chicken-meat, but 'tain't nigh
so good."

"Well, if they eat rabbits I think better of them," said Hope; "and here
comes Solomon with the mail-bag."

Among the letters which the Invalid turned out a yellow envelope was
conspicuous.