“Come, Tummas, Tummas, get up the old gee-haws,” Will said, and off they started. The three little ones sat in a jubilant row on the bottom of the cart, and the girls balanced themselves on the empty cider barrels, for there was no seat. Stolen fruits are always sweet, and their rather uneasy consciences gave an additional zest to the fun.
“Gee, haw!” cried Thomas, cracking his lash around the yoke of the plodding team. Down the road they pitched and lumbered, screaming with merriment, across the bridge, under which the little winding Kayuna babbled, and up the rather steep hill on the other side.
At last they reached the cider mill. What fun it was to run around the apple-smelling place, and to suck, through a straw, the sickishly-sweet juice dropping from the press.
Kenneth was lost once, to be discovered leaning over one of the low vats, splashing his hands in the pale, yellow liquid with great enjoyment. Of course he was soaked to his shoulders.
“You bad boy,” scolded Eunice, fishing him out. “Look at your dress!” for it was drenched with cider and black with dirt. His face was grimy and his curls sticky and odourous.
“My! won’t ’Liza scold!” commented Zaidee, very comfortingly.
Kenneth looked aggrieved, and put up his lip.
“You bringed me, Tritet; I’m hundery, and I want my supper.”
“Come, young uns,” shouted Thomas, outside, when he had filled his barrels and loaded them up. “Git in with you now, or we won’t git to go to-night.”
He hoisted Zaidee and Helen over the side, and gave Kenneth a tremendous swing right over into the corner. The girls scrambled over the tail-board.