e mare Jenny and the
colt Paul, fed the pigs, washed his face and hands, and was ready for
breakfast.

It would not have been like Rachel Walden, the only daughter, eighteen
years old, to lie in bed and let her mother do all the work about the
house. She came from her chamber with tripping steps, as if it were a
pleasure to be wide awake after a good sleep. She fed the chickens,
set the table, raked the potatoes from the ashes, drew a mug of cider
for her father. When breakfast was ready, they stood by their chairs
while Mr. Walden asked a blessing. The meal finished, he read a
chapter in the Bible and offered prayer. When the "Amen" was said,
Mr. Walden and Robert put on their hats and went about their work.
Mrs. Walden passed upstairs to throw the shuttle of the loom. Rachel
washed the dishes, wheyed the curd, and prepared it for the press,
turned the cheeses and rubbed them with fat. That done, she set the
kitchen to rights, made the beds, sprinkled clean sand upon the floor,
wet the web of linen bleaching on the grass in the orchard, then
slipped upstairs and set the spinning-wheel to humming. His neighbors
said that Mr. Walden was thrifty and could afford to wear a broadcloth
blue coat with bright brass buttons on grand occasions, and that Mrs.
Walden was warranted in having a satin gown.

Haying was over. The rye was reaped, the wheat and oats were
harvested, and the flax was pulled. September had come,--the time
when Mr. Walden usually went to Boston with the cheese.

"Father," said Rachel at dinner, "I wish you would take the cheeses to
market. It is hard work to turn so many every day."

Mr. Walden sat in silence awhile. "Robert," he said at length, "how
would you like to try your hand at truck and dicker?"

"If you think I can do it I will try," Robert replied, surprised at
the question, yet gratified.

"Of course you can do it. You can figure up how much a cheese that
tips the steelyard at twenty pounds and three ounces will come to at
three pence ha'penny per pound. You know, or you ought to know, the
difference between a pistareen and a smooth-faced shilling. When you
truck and dicker, you've got to remember that the other feller is
doing it all the time, while you will be as green as a pumpkin in
August. When you are tasting 'lasses, you must run a stick into the
bung-hole of the barrel clear down to the bottom and then lift it up
and see if it is thick or thin. T'other feller will want you to taste