When we arrived there was no one stirring about the mill; but we had no more than driven up and hitched old Sol to a post, when two boys came out from a small red house, a little way along the road, where lived the miller, whose name was Harland.
"There come Jock and George," said Addison. "Maybe the old man isn't at home to-day.
"Where's your father?" he called out, as the boys drew near.
"Gone to the village," replied the larger of the two, who was apparently thirteen or fourteen years of age.
"We want to get a grist ground," Addison said to them.
"What is it?" they both asked.
"Corn," replied Ad.
"If it's only corn, we can grind it," they said. "Take it in so we can toll it. Pa said we could grind corn, or oats and pease; but he won't let us grind wheat, yet, for that has to be bolted."
We carried the bags into the mill; there were three of them, each containing two bushels of corn; and meantime the two young millers brought along a half-bushel measure and a two-quart measure.
"It's two quarts toll to the bushel, ye know," said Jonathan, the elder of the two. "So I must have two two-quart measurefuls out of every bag." He proceeded to untie the bags and toll them, dipping out a heaped measureful.