cried Maggie. "You look down on the house, and you look down the river, and it's shady and nice. It's just lovely! That is best for to-day. Then, other days, we'll take the other places. Now, we must get ready."

"What?" said Flora.

"Oh, you must get your work, or books if you like; whatever you like; and Meredith must find a book, too, I suppose; we always take books and work, and then we talk; but once when we took nothing, then we didn't do anything. Esther and I must prepare the waggon; cart, I mean."

"What is to go in the cart? Cannot we help you?" said Meredith. "And, where is the cart, in the first place?"

"Oh, it's up in the wood-house loft; we haven't had it out this year yet, you know. Ditto, maybe you'll tell Fairbairn to get it down, will you?"

"Who is Mr. Fairbairn?"

"Oh, the gardener. He's out there somewhere. Esther and I must go to Betsey for things."

"I suppose I shall know Fairbairn when I see him," said Meredith smiling, as he put on his hat.

In a quarter of an hour the cart stood at the door, and Esther and Maggie and Flora were busily packing "things" in baskets. Meredith came to put his hand to the work.

"It is so hard to remember everything," said Esther. "We always forget something or other, and then somebody has to go back for it. Now, here is all the china, I think. Oh, stop! have we put the teapot in?"

"Who wants tea?" said Meredith.

"In the woods? Oh, we always have tea in the woods, and sometimes coffee."

"Make a fire to boil the kettle?"

"Why, of course!"

"How should I know it was of course? Well, tea is very good in the woods, I have no doubt. Don't forget the tea."

"But I should have forgotten the sugar, if you hadn't spoken."

"And the salt! don't forget the salt; we always do."

"We don't want salt to-day; we have nothing to eat it with."

"Yes, we have."

"No, we haven't; there is cold ham, and bread, and butter, and apple-sauce."

"Take the salt," said Meredith, "and give me a few eggs, and I'll make you a friar's omelet."

"A friar's omelet! What is that?"

"You'll see. Only I shall want a dish to mix it in, you know."

Delightful! The dish was fetched from the kitchen, and the omelet pan. Ham and apple-sauce Betty had packed for the party already; rolls and butter, spoons and knives and forks, a pitcher of cream, napkins—I do not know what all—went into the other baskets, and were finally stowed in the cart. A light porter's cart, it was; roomy enough; and yet it grew pretty full. The tea-kettle must find a place; then books and knitting and paper. Then thick shawls to spread upon the rocks, to make softer seats for the more ease-loving. Fairbairn carried a tin pail with water. All these arrangements took up time; so the morning was well on its way and the dew long off the grass, when at last the procession set forth. Meredith drew the cart, which he was informed he must do carefully, or the cream would slop over, and, possibly, other damage be done.

It was not a long way they had to go this morning. Bordering upon the lawn and shrubbery, to the east, rose a little rocky height, which, in fact, prevented the dwellers at Mosswood from ever seeing the sun rise. But the hill was so pretty, they forgave it. Towards the house it presented a smooth wall of grey granite; on the top it also showed granite in quantity, there, however, alternating with moss and thin grass, and overshadowed by cedars, oaks, and pines, with now and then a young hemlock. The soil was thin; the growth of trees in consequence not lofty; nevertheless, very graceful. No cultivation, hardly any dressing, had been attempted; the purple asters sprung up at the edge of the rocks, and huckleberry bushes stood where they found footing; here and there a bramble, here and there a bunch of ferns. Now the oak leaves were turned yellow and brown; the huckleberry bushes in duller hues of the same; moss was dry and crisp, and ferns odorous in the warm air.

To reach the top of the height a circuit must be made. There was no path leading straight from the house. Through the grounds at the back of the house the way wound along between beds of acheranthus and cineraria which made warm strips of bordering, with scarlet pelargoniums lighting up the beds beyond in a blaze of brilliance. Turning then into a carriage road, the party followed it to the north of the height which Maggie had called the South Pitch, and struck off then southwards into a little, mossy, rocky, hardly-traced path under the trees.

"This is easy enough," said Meredith, guiding his cart somewhat carefully, however, to avoid severe jolts which would have endangered the cream. "I do not see where the pitch is yet."

"Ah, but you will when you get to the south end," said Maggie. "Look out, Ditto, here's a rock in your way. And these huckleberry bushes are very thick."

Following on over rocks and bushes, they soon came to the place Maggie meant, and Meredith rested his cart and stood still to look. From the southern brow of the little hill, the ground fell steeply away; so steeply that the eye had unhindered range over the river which lay below, and the hills bordering it, and the point of Gee's Point which there pushes the river to the eastward. Not a tree-branch even was in the way; river and hills lay in the October light, still, glowing, fair, as only October can be.

"Do you like it, Meredith?" asked Maggie wistfully. Her opinion of Mosswood had been long a fixed one.

"I have never seen such a place!"

"Uncle Eden had his tent up here one summer, and he cut away all the branches and trees that were in the way of the view; for he wanted to lie in his tent at night and be able to look out and see the river and the hills in the moonlight."

"And did he have this wall built too?" asked Meredith, seeing that the platform where he stood was held up on the side towards the river by a regularly laid, though unmortared, wall.

"Oh," said Esther laughing, "that wall was laid a hundred years ago, Meredith. Soldiers laid it; our soldiers; all Mosswood was fortified; this is a breastwork."

"Whom do you mean by 'our soldiers'?"

"Why, the Americans," said Esther. "When they were fighting that war, a hundred years ago. You'll find bits of breastwork all over Mosswood."

"Well, that is delightful," said Meredith. "We are historical. Now, what are we to do first? I move, we make our camp just here. We cannot have a better place."

So there a rock under a tree, here a bit of mossy bank, was taken possession of; places were carpeted with shawls, and luxurious loungers were at rest upon them. Fairbairn set down the pail of water and departed; Flora got her worsted embroidery out of the cart, and Esther a strip of afghan which she was ambitiously making. Maggie nestled up to Meredith's side on the moss and laid her little hand in his, and for a little while they were all quiet; these last two enjoying October. But Meredith did not long sit still; he must go exploring, up and down and all round the South Pitch. Maggie followed him, as ready to go as he, and talking all the while. It was nothing but rocks and moss and trees and brambles and ferns; with the delicious river glittering below the rocks, and the glow of the hills coming to them through the trees, and golden hickory leaves falling at their feet, and now and then a chestnut burr or a hickory schale to be hammered open. Warm and tired at last they came back to their place. And then the girls declared it was time for dinner.

CHAPTER II.

A fire was the first thing. Meredith and Maggie gathered dry pine branches and dead leaves, and Meredith built a nice