"They are certainly fine," agreed Roger, finishing his second one.
The plate was soon emptied, and Clara offered to go for more, but they all voted they had enough for the present. Then Mr. Kimball cut open one of the caps of honey, and he and the boys ate the sweet stuff, which, a short time before had been in the hive.
"Don't you want some?" asked Roger of Clara, offering her a thick slice of the comb.
"No, thank you," she replied. "I've eaten so much this last month I'm afraid I'll turn into a bee," and she hurried back to the house with a ringing laugh.
It was only four o'clock when the honey had all been packed ready for shipment, and Mr. Kimball left to make arrangements for the trip to-morrow. Adrian, for whom there was no more work that afternoon, proposed to Roger that they take a walk to Truem Wright's grist mill. So they tramped up the street to where the mill stood on the edge of a pond.
They met quite a number of boys and girls carrying tin pails and books, and most of the youngsters spoke to Adrian as he passed them.
"Where are they from?" asked Roger.
"School's out."
"Oh, sure enough. I'd almost forgotten there was such a thing. But don't you go?"
"Not until winter sets in," said Adrian. "You see there's too much to do about the farm, and then I'm pretty well along in what they teach here. They're going to have a higher class for the older pupils in January, and I'll start in then."