"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 us about that."
The old gentleman hedged a little. "Oh, that is not much of a story," said he.