stream. How pretty it was! the winding
river above, with its woody banks, and villages, and spires; and its
broader bends below, towards the Sound. They were about midway in the
stream when Reuben suddenly cried out--

"Look, Miss Faith!"--

And there came the great wagon, at not the slowest possible rate, over
the long marsh road.

The first sight of the ferryboat and her freight was the signal for a
simultaneous shout from the whole wagon load--which long Tim took for a
summons to himself.

"'Taint no sort o' use hollerin' like _that_," he said, with a little
turn of his steering oar; "'cause I aint a goin' back till I get
somewheres to go back _from_--nor then neither mabbe. I kin count
dollars whar they kint count cents, neow."

And 'neow' the little wagon was beyond pursuit,--up the hill from the
ferry, on over the farm road, drove Mrs. Derrick--somewhat at the
quickest; until the old untenanted house rose just before them, and
Reuben sprang down to take the reins and help the ladies out.

It was a pleasant old farmhouse that, in spite of its deserted
condition. They went to the kitchen, bright with windows looking out to
grass fields and trees. Mrs. Derrick stood at open door and window,
recalling scenes and people she remembered there, or watching for the
big wagon to make its appearance; while Reuben and Faith went to the
outhouses, and finally by dint of perseverance found a supply of wood
in an old rotten tumbled-down fence. Mrs. Derrick proclaimed that the
wagon was coming, as the foragers returned; but there was a splendid
blaze going up chimney before the aforesaid conveyance drew up at the
door, and the whole first party turned out to see it unload.

The wagon was unloaded in the twinkling of an eye; then came rummaging
for baskets; then so many boys and so many baskets hopped and hummed
round, like a little bevy of wasps--with nothing at least of the bee
business-character about them.

"Mr. Linden, be we going to stop here?"--

"Is here where the trees be, Mr. Linden?"--

"Mr. Linden, Joe Deacon aint behaving nohow!"

"Mr. Linden, will we leave our baskets and come back to the house? or
will they be to go along?"--inquired a more sober tongue.

While others were giving their opinion in little asides that it was
'prime'--and 'fust-rate'--and arguing the comparative promise of
chestnut and hickory trees. And one of the bigger boys of the party,
_not_ distinguished for his general good qualit