quite so much all at a time, if it was by a
grandmamma. The chickens, though, were fascinating, and as for some
plushy round balls of yellow fuzz, rolling about--little ducks just
hatched--Tot had never seen anything at all to compare with them. But
there was a dreadful and discordant procession of big ducks that struck
terror to Tot's soul, and it was very still and lonely when the night
and dark crept on. The crickets and the frogs did their best, but they
only made it stiller and lonelier; and the hills gleamed against the
sky, and Tot missed her mamma. But yet, Tot was very sleepy, and the
next she knew it was morning and she was at grandma's, where Uncle Will
lived, and Uncle Will was coming pretty soon, and, better than that,
mamma was coming, too; and there was a little girl, a short distance up
the road, whom Tot was to play with, and then there were the chickens
and the ducks, and old Brindle and the pigs, and the pony and the hay
cart, and--yes, it was very delightful at grandmamma's.

Once or twice, during the next few days, Tot asked--preserving that
singular reticence regarding her illusions, so common to children--to be
taken to Sugar River; but grandpapa was busy haying, and grandmamma
said:

"Will will come pretty soon and he will take you."

"When _is_ pwetty soon!" asked Tot, in hopeless tones.

One afternoon grandmamma gave Tot and Susie (that was the name of Tot's
little playmate) each a fat hot jumble, and left them playing happily in
the yard while she went back to her sewing. Susie was seven, so very
safe company for little four-year-old Tot. After a while over ran
Susie's brother, to summon her home to go with her mother to the
village.

Tot stood at the gate, looking down the long road. Sturdy maples threw
curving, interlacing boughs across, through which the sun-light filtered
and flickered. How cool and shady it was! Tot all at once felt the
little sunny yard grow hot and stupid, and then Susie's mamma drove out
of the gate and down the long shady arch over the sun-flecked road. Tot
wished she was going to the village, too. Tot wished she was going
to--to--Sugar River.

[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO SUGAR RIVER.]

"Run in to grandmamma, little Tot," whispered the still small voice. But
Tot never heeded. Tot was tired. Tot was hot. Tot was homesick. Tot
would walk down the road just a few little steps. What harm? How
delightful! How grateful the cool green shade! How alluring the lo