"Are ye cold?" Abner asked.
"I do feel that way."
"Take the oars, then, an' warm ye'rself up. There's a chilly breeze sprung up, an' ye might catch cold. It 'ud be too bad to lose sich a valuable person. Don't know how the world 'ud wag along."
Reluctantly Billy took Abner's place, and began to row. But he was like a child at the work, and the boat, with no keel, went around and around in a circle.
"Say, where are ye takin' us?" Abner asked. "I'm gittin' dizzy."
"But I can't keep the d—d thing straight," was the reply. "There's something wrong with the boat or with these oars."
"Here, give 'em to me," Abner ordered. "I don't want any more wheels in me head. The fault's not with the oars or the boat, young man, but with you. Now, watch how I do it. My, you'd be great in a race with a dog chasin' its tail, wouldn't ye?"
It did not take long to reach the shore, and all to land. Abner spoke a word to his wife, and she at once left with the children for the house. He remained a few minutes behind with Billy, and when the latter left and headed for the main highway, Abner picked up the remaining basket and walked slowly up through the field. He chuckled several times and twice turned and looked to see how far Billy had gone.
When Abner reached the house he was surprised at the commotion which was taking place in the dooryard. A big truck was standing there, loaded with provisions. It had just arrived and the driver was asking Mrs. Andrews where he should put the stuff. The latter was somewhat bewildered, and was trying to make the man understand that there must have been some mistake, and that the goods could not be intended for them.
"But it's all marked for Abner Andrews, of Ash Point," the man insisted. "There's no mistake about that. I've brought it, and here it's going to stay."