“Well, I put them in there; and when I came to the shore I hid them in the woods, in a hollow tree, on the western point.”
“I know how you feel. I suppose you would not like very much to have anybody see it in an unfinished state, or till you get that moulding on.”
“I shouldn’t like to have Uncle Isaac or John see it; and I should like to get it all done, if I could, before Joe gets back, because he’s a real judge of things, and would be apt to make some queer speech, if it was not finished.”
“Well, then, you may finish it to-morrow; and take all the time you want, and make it as nice as you please.”
“O, thank you, father; I am ever so much obliged to you.”
“Come,” said Sally, “let us see what this boy’s pies and cookery tastes like. O, you rogue! I see now what you was so anxious to get me away from the island for. But what have you lived on, Charlie; I don’t see as you have cooked much.”
“I couldn’t afford the time to cook; so I lived on bread and milk, and bread and butter; but I am going to make it up now.”
They had a real social meal, and pronounced Charles’s cookery excellent. They also told him all the news,—where they had been, what they had seen, and what John was doing. They said that there was a great quantity of alders in a little swale near the house, almost as large as a man’s leg; that they made a real hot fire, and would burn well when they were green; that John was cutting these, and hauling them with his steers, on a sled, for there was snow on the main land, though there had been none to last any time on the island. It was often the case, that, when it was snowing on the main land, it rained upon the island. It also, when it fell, thawed off much sooner, as the sea-water kept the temperature down. Thus, all the snow that came during the storm Charles was caught in, had already disappeared from the island, while on the main John Rhines could haul wood.
As Charles was in a great measure cut off from all society of his own age, he was never happier than when working with tools, seeming to take the greatest delight in making those things that were useful. Ben permitted him to have the stormy days to himself, when he was always at work at the bench, and did not set him to making shingles or staves, except occasionally, in order that he might learn the art; for it is quite an art to shave shingles well and fast. Joe Griffin was the boy for that.
Saturday night brought Joe, and the work in the woods was resumed.