ng with some natural
fruit; she also produced the old paring machine, coring knives and a
hank of stringing twine and needle, and in short made ready for a busy
evening.

"Now, young folks," quoth she, "you've been off and had a fine time; and
I s'pose you're all ready to make the apples fly! It will not take us
long to do up these three bushels to-night, if you all work smart."

It was an invitation not to be refused, under the circumstances, though
Theodora and Ellen made wry faces. They disliked to cut apples, it is
such dirty, sticky work and blackens one's hands so badly. Addison took
up the paring machine, good-naturedly.

"Here's my old friend of last year," said he, screwing it to the leaf of
the kitchen table. "I pared bushels with it last fall, and I guess I'll
pare them now, while the rest of you trim and core and string them. We
must have dried apples, I suppose, for pies and sauce; at least, Gram
says we must."

He fixed an apple on the fork of the machine and then in a moment had
whirled the skin off it, in a long, thin ribbon which descended into the
basket set beneath the table. I thought it looked to be fun;--but that
was before I understood the business as well as I subsequently came to
do.

Finding that we had mustered in good force to cut the apples, Gram got
out her basket of socks to darn and presently summoned Theodora to
assist her. The Old Squire sat at the other side of the table and began
to read his _Maine Farmer_, which had come that night from the post
office; but he stopped reading often to hear what Addison had to tell of
our trip. Ellen and I trimmed and halved the apples, as Addison pared
them; "Aunt Olive" cored and Wealthy strung the cored halves.

At length, when Gramp seemed to have looked his paper pretty nearly
through, Theodora said that we had a particular favor to ask of him that
evening.

"Ah!" said the old gentleman, looking over the top of his glasses. "What
can Theodora want?"

"But I want you to promise to grant it before I tell what it is,"
replied Theodora.

The Old Squire laughed. "That's asking quite a good deal," he remarked.
"But I hope I am not running much risk."

"Well, then, grandfather," said Theodora, "we all want you to tell us
the story of the panther that you and Mr. Edwards shot up in the great
woods when you were boys. Thomas and Catherine have been telling us
about it; and we want to hear the story."

"Yes, sir," said Addison. "Please tell