grey-brown,
and shone as the sunlight struck them, in all hues from bright
yellow-green to warm deep reddish-brown. The bud-cases, too, were very
dark and sticky, and some little birds were feasting on the
close-curled green within, while once, far away, a robin called
huskily, not yet triumphant in his shrill bubbling whistle.

Stephanie never forgot that journey. Trees, trees, nothing but trees
before them behind them, on either side--except where the trail wound
onwards, and even that, the low branches and the long-armed bushes were
striving to reclaim. And between these trees the carpet of white lay
as yet unbroken, though somewhat shrunken here and there. Winter
seemed to be still present; but as the day advanced, Stephanie noticed
that the woods were disturbed by an occasional whirr and flutter of
birds, while in the sunnier spots could be heard the soft insistent
music of melting snow. The spring melody had not yet begun, but the
forests were crooning snatches of it in their sleep.

That journey was never forgotten, and not forgotten easily was the
welcome extended to the chilly travellers by the warm-hearted Irish
family they counted their nearest neighbours. Stephanie was to sleep
at the house, and all the evening she discussed matters with the eldest
daughter, bright-faced, soft-tongued Nonie O'Brien--matters dear to the
hearts of girls; and Nonie exhibited with speechless pride the
never-worn dress of rose-pink tabinet, less pink than her own cheeks,
which her father had brought her from distant Cobourg on her last
birthday.

Meanwhile, the men and boys had taken the kettles to the sugar-bush,
stabled the horses afterwards, then returned to the bush and built the
rough shelter of boughs they were to inhabit for the nine or ten days
of their stay. This finished, they rolled themselves in their
blankets, and were almost instantly asleep, too tired even to snore.

The next morning the sugar-making began. Notches were cut in the
trees, and below these the cedar spiles were driven in, down which the
sap trickled into little troughs set for the purpose. Several times
during the day the sap was all gathered in buckets, carried at the end
of a yoke which was placed across the shoulders, and taken to the great
store-troughs. The iron kettles slung over the fires had to be kept
full and constantly watched, until the sap should turn to syrup; and
then came the "sugaring-off."

Everyone was kept busy almo