"Carry them to the house there."
"What house?"
"Mrs. Wyllys's, to be sure," replied Uncle Dozie, boldly.
"What is the use of carrying vegetables to Mrs. Wyllys? She has a garden of her own" said his brother, very innocently.
"Miserable garden—poor, thin soil," muttered Uncle Dozie.
"Is it? Well, then, I can understand it; but you might us well send them by the gardener."
Uncle Dozie made no reply, but proceeded to arrange his vegetables in the basket, with an eye to appearances; he had gathered them all up again, but another object which had fallen on the grass lay unnoticed.
"What is that—a book?" asked his brother.
Uncle Dozie turned round, saw the volume, picked it up, and thrust it in his pocket.
"Did you drop it? I didn't know you ever carried a book about you," replied his brother, with some surprise. "What is it?"