“Late, indeed! It is four o’clock, and we were to have been here by eleven; they have given you up.”
The little boys wanted to force in the door; but Hiram said it was no use,—they wouldn’t understand what to do, and he should have to see to the horses,—and it was too late, and very likely the men had carried off all the syrup.
But he thought a minute, as they all stood in silence and gloom; and then he guessed they might find some sugar at Deacon Spear’s, close by, on the back road, and that would be better than nothing.
Mrs. Peterkin was pretty cold, and glad not to wait in the darkening wood; so the eight little boys walked through the wood-path, Hiram leading the way; and slowly the carryall followed.
They reached Deacon Spear’s at length; but only Mrs. Spear was at home. She was very deaf, but could explain that the family had taken all their syrup to the sugar festival.
“We might go to the festival,” exclaimed the boys.
“It would be very well,” said Mrs. Peterkin, “to eat our fresh syrup there.”
But Mrs. Spear could not tell where the festival was to be, as she had not heard; perhaps they might know at Squire Ramsay’s.
Squire Ramsay’s was on their way to Grandfather’s, so they stopped there. They were told that the “Squire’s folks” had all gone with their syrup to the festival. The man who was chopping wood did not know where the festival was to be.