“Last week,” said Charlie. “We came over to Uncle Isaac’s, and from there here. You’ve got a real nice place, Joe. How much land have you?”
“Two hundred acres. It is well watered and timbered. There’s pine on the back part, as there is on your’n, and all these lots. Did you see my corn?”
“Yes, we’ve been to the house, and came right through it. I never saw such corn before!” said John.
“That’s what everybody says, and the wheat is as good as the corn. If the frost holds off, and the bears don’t eat it up, I shall have a lot of corn; but right here in the woods the frost is apt to strike early.”
“Been cutting up any shines lately, Joe?” asked John.
“Not a shine. I’m an old, steady, married man.”
The horn was now heard.
“Come, boys, there’s supper.”
It was only five o’clock. It was the farmers’ custom in those days to have supper at five or half past, and then work till night. Sally had provided a bountiful supper—a coot stew, flapjacks, with maple sirup and custards.
“Did you make this sirup, Joe?” asked Charlie.