the farther shore; likewise a place where
the hazel bushes were loaded with nuts, and where a few butternut trees
yielded a rich harvest. Young Joe and he gathered a great store of
these, as the nights of early frost came on; and they spread a feast for
the others now and then, with late corn, roasted in questionable fashion
over a smoky box-stove that heated the camp stifling hot.

October came in, with the leaves growing scarlet in the woods and sharp
winds whistling through the corn and bean stacks. Henry Burns and his
friends had seen but little of the Ellisons, who were out of school for
the winter, caring for the farm; but now the night of the 31st of
October found Henry Burns and Jack Harvey, George Warren, Bob White and
Tom Harris seated in the big kitchen of the Ellison farmhouse.

It was plainly to be seen that, although the Ellisons had been reduced
in circumstances through the loss of the mill, there was still an
abundance of its kind yielded by the farm. On a table were dishes of
apples and fall pears; two pumpkin pies of vast circumference squatted
near by, close to a platter of honey and a huge pitcher of milk.

It was dark already, though only half-past seven o'clock, and the lights
of two kerosene lamps gleamed through the kitchen windows.

As hosts on this occasion, John and James Ellison presently proceeded to
introduce their city friends to the delights of milk and honey; a dish
composed of the dripping sweet submerged in a bowl of creamy milk, and
eaten therewith, comb and all.

"Never hurt anybody eaten that way," explained John Ellison, "and this
is the real thing. The milk is from the Jersey cows in the barn, and the
honey's from the garret, where there's five swarms of bees been working
all summer."

They need no urging, however.

"Poor Joe! He'll die of grief when I tell him about this," remarked
George Warren, smacking his lips over a mouthful.

"Why didn't you bring him along?" asked John Ellison. "I wanted you all
to come."

"Arthur's off down town, and Joe's gone to the camp with Tim Reardon,"
explained the eldest of the Warren brothers. "Tim and Joe'll be
sky-larking around somewhere later. They're great on Hallowe'en night,
you know. They've got a supply of cabbage-stumps to deliver at the
doors."

And thus the talk drifted to Hallowe'en, the night when, if old
romances could only be believed, there are witches and evil spirits
abroad, alive to all sorts of pranks and mischief