Soon I decided that it was time for the younger children to return, for I meant to give my wife all the help I could before bedtime. We first hauled the wagon back, and then Merton said he would bring what sap had been caught. Junior had to go home for a time to do his evening "chores," but he promised to return before dark to help carry in the sap.
"There'll be frost to-night, and we'll get the biggest run in the morning," was his encouraging remark, as he made ready to depart.
Mrs. Jones had been over to see my wife, and they promised to become good friends. I set to work putting things in better shape, and bringing in a good pile of wood. Merton soon appeared with a brimming pail. A kettle was hung on the crane, but before the sap was placed over the fire all must taste it, just as it had been distilled by nature. And all were quickly satisfied. Even Mousie said it was "too watery," and Winnie made a face as she exclaimed, "I declare, Merton, I believe you filled the pails from the brook!"
"Patience, youngsters; sap, as well as some other things, is better for boiling down."
"Oh what a remarkable truth!" said my wife, who never lost a chance to give me a little dig.
I laughed, and then stood still in the middle of the floor, lost in thought.
"A brown study! What theory have you struck now, Robert?"
"I was thinking how some women kept their husbands in love with them by being saucy. It's an odd way, and yet it seems effective."
"It depends upon the kind of sauce, Robert," she said with a knowing glance and a nod.
By the time it was dark, we had both the kettles boiling and bubbling over the fire, and fine music they made. With Junior for guest, we enjoyed our supper, which consisted principally of baked apples and milk.