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“Yes; they are for you, we bought the farmer’s entire stock; the others are supplied, or will be without you giving them yours.”

He had just gone, when Sim Buford came and threw half a dozen especially beautiful ones into my lap.

“Thank you, Sim, but I am bountifully supplied, don’t you see?”

“So you are, but keep mine, too; I can guess who it was that forestalled me.” Laughing as he walked off.

So we are feasting on luscious apples this evening, thanks to the generosity of our young gentlemen.

* * * * *

Friday, May 5.

We came through Unionville and Moravia to-day. Have traveled farther and later than any day yet. It was almost dark when we stopped, and raining, too; to make a bad matter worse, we are camping in a disagreeable muddy place, and have to use lanterns to cook by.

We were obliged to come so far to get a lot large enough to hold the stock. We will be glad to sleep in the house to-night.

Mrs. Kerfoot is homesick, blue and despondent this evening; she has always had such an easy life that anything disagreeable discourages her. Perhaps when the sun shines again she will feel all right.