David Fleming's Forgiveness

by Margaret M. Robertson

On “sugaring-off” days there were usually plenty of visitors. Sugaring-off is the final process of sugar-making, when the syrup into which the sap has been made by long boiling down, is clarified and skimmed and boiled still until it is clear as amber, ready, when cooled, to become a solid mass of glittering sweetness. It is astonishing what a quantity of the warm brown liquid can be consumed with pleasure, and without satiety, and on sugaring-off days not even the half-acknowledged dread of Mr Fleming and his stern looks and ways prevented a gathering of young people larger than would have been welcome to less open-handed folk. But the consumption of a few pounds of warm sugar, more or less, was a small matter in the opinion of the old people, provided all behaved themselves as they ought; and whatever might have been likely to happen in Mr Fleming’s absence, his presence was a sufficient check on the most foolish among them. And even the wild young lads of the village found the old man less grim and stern in the spring woods, with the sunshine about them, than they had learned to think him as they watched him sitting in the meeting-house on Sundays.

Sugaring-time is a time of hard and unpleasant work, and this was a more favourable year than usual. Davie had been too busy with other things all the winter to be able to do much in the way of improving the tools and utensils necessary in the making of sugar. By another year there would be a change, he told Katie in confidence. But in the meantime, the three great iron kettles that had been in use during his father’s lifetime made the only boiling apparatus; they hung over a fire of great logs, on a strong pole the ends of which rested on the “crotch” of two great logs or ports set up fifteen or twenty feet apart, and there was no roof above them.

The “camp” or “shanty” used for shelter if it rained, was close by the fire, made of boards, one end of which rested in the ground, while the other end was raised to rest on a pole extended between the boughs of two overhanging trees; but the young people rarely cared to enter it. It held the syrup tubs and such stores of food as were needed from day to day, but it was small and low, and “out of doors” suited them better, even at night when their work detained them.

Into the great maple trees, scattered over an area of many acres, small scooped spouts of cedar were fastened, and out of a tiny cutting, made by a common axe above it, the sap flowed over these into a primitive bucket of cedar, or a still more primitive trough placed beneath. This sap was carried from all parts of the place in pails sustained by a rough wooden yoke placed on the shoulders of the carrier, and emptied into great wooden sap-holders beside the kettles. This part of the work, to be done well, and with the smallest amount of labour, had to be done in the early morning, before the sun had melted the crust which the night’s frost had made on the snow. For even when the open fields were bare, the snow still lingered in the hollows of the wood, and to carry full pails safely, when one’s feet were sinking into the mass made soft by the sunshine, was a feat not to be accomplished easily.

This carrying of the sap and the cutting of the wood for fires, was the hard part of the work; the boiling of the sap and all the rest of it was considered by Davie and his brothers as only fun. When there was a great run of sap, as usually happens several times in the season, the boiling had to be carried on through the night, as well as during the day, and when the weather was fine, this only made the fun the greater. At such times Davie usually secured the companionship of a friend, and the chances were the friend brought another friend or two with him; and there were few things happening in Gershom or elsewhere that were not freely discussed at such times.

Katie had less to do with sugar-making this year than ever she had before, and was inclined to murmur a little because of it. But she was less needed in the wood now, her grandmother said, when the other bairns were growing able to help their brother, and Katie was needed in the house. Early as it was, there were calves to be fed and milk to be cared for, and this year it was understood that Katie was to be responsible for all that was done in the dairy. There was plenty to do; Katie’s mother was not strong, and grannie confessed that she was feeling herself not so young as she used to be, and Katie was the main stay now.

And, besides, Katie was too nearly a grown woman now to play herself with the bairns in the wood, grannie went on to say, and it was far better for Davie to get Ben Holt or some other lad to help, when help was needed, than to take his sister from her work at home to do work for which she was not fit. Of course Katie assented, and yielded her own pleasure, as she always did at any word of grannie’s; but grannie herself felt a little uncomfortable about it. For it was not her thought that Katie should be kept, as a general thing, out of the wood, but Davie’s. Between indignation and amusement, she had had some difficulty in keeping her countenance when the lad had spoken.

“I dinna need her, grannie, and she’s better at home. Help! There’s no fear but I’ll get help enough. Jim Miller will be over, and Moses Green, and more besides, very likely, and I’m no’ wanting Katie.”

“You’re well off for helpers, it seems, Davie, my lad. But as for Katie’s going—”

“Grannie, she’s no’ going. As for helpers, they may come and go, and help or not help, as suits themselves. But the less they have to say about our Katie in the town, the better. Helpers! Do you suppose, grannie dear, that they all come to help me?”