d Benjamin and Charles," chimed in the quick-witted Molly;
"and your father, Eyebright, and Henry,--all down there in the barn."

While they recited this formidable list, the little geese were staring
with wide-open, affrighted eyes into the corner where the rustle had
been heard.

"And,--" continued Eyebright, her voice trembling more than ever,
"they have all got pitchforks, you know, and guns, and--oh, mercy!
what was that? The hay moved, girls, it did move, I saw it!"

All scrambled to their feet prepared to fly, but before any one could
start, the hay in the corner parted, and, cackling and screaming, out
flew Mrs. Top-knot, tired of her hidden nest, or of the story-telling,
and resolved on escape. Eyebright ran after, and shoo-ed her
downstairs. Then she came back laughing, and said,--

"How silly we were! Go on, Laura."

But the nerves of the party were too shaky still to enjoy
robber-stories, and Eyebright, perceiving this, made a diversion.

"I know what we all want," she said; "some apples. Stay here all of
you, and I'll run in and get them. I won't be but a minute."

"Mayn't I come too?" asked the inseparable Bessie.

"Yes, do, and you can help me carry 'em. Don't tell any stories while
we're gone, girls. Come along, Bess."

Wealthy happened to be in the buttery, skimming cream, so no one spied
them as they ran through the kitchen and down the cellar stairs. The
cellar was a very large one. In fact, there were half a dozen cellars
opening one into the other, like the rooms of a house. Wood and coal
were kept in some of them, in others vegetables, and there was a
swinging shelf where stood Wealthy's cold meat, and odds and ends of
food. All the cellars were dark at this hour of the afternoon, very
dark, and Bessie held Eyebright's hand tight, as, with the ease of one
who knew the way perfectly, she sped toward the apple-room.

In the blackest corner of all, Eyebright paused, fumbled a little on
an almost invisible shelf with a jar which had a lid and clattered,
and then handed to her friend a dark something whose smell and taste
showed it to be a pickled butternut.

"Wealthy keeps her pickles here," she said, "and she lets me take one
now and then, because I helped to prick the butternuts when she made
'em. I got my fingers awfully stained too. It didn't come off for
almost a month. Aren't they good?"

"Perfectly splendid!" replied Bessie, as her teeth met in the spicy
acid oval. "I do think butt