made this year. I wonder ef your ma would sell a quart or two
of it."

"You can have it and welcome, Mrs. Payson."

"Can I jest as well as not? Well, that's kind. But I didn't expect you
to give it to me."

"Oh, we have got plenty."

"I dunno how I can carry it home," said the lady hesitatingly. "I wonder
ef some of your folks won't be going up our way within a day or two."

"We will send it. I guess father'll be going up to-morrow."

"Then ef you can spare it you might send round a gallon, an' ef there's
anything to pay I'll pay for it."

This little business arrangement being satisfactorily adjusted, and the
pie consumed, Mrs. Payson got up and said she must be going.

"I'm afraid you haven't got rested yet, Mrs. Payson."

"I ain't hardly," was the reply; "but I guess I shall stop on the way at
Mis' Frost's. Tell your ma I'll come up an' see her ag'in afore long."

"Yes, ma'am."

"An' you won't forget to send over that cider?"

"No, ma'am."

"I'm ashamed to trouble ye, but their ain't anybody over to our
house that I can send. There's Tom grudges doin' anything for his old
grandma'am. A'ter all that I do for him, too! Good-by!"

The old lady set out on her way to Mrs. Frost's.

Her road lay through the woods, where an unforeseen danger lay in wait
for her.

Meanwhile Pomp was pursuing military science under difficulties. The
weight of the musket made it very awkward for him to handle. Several
times he got out of patience with it, and apostrophized it in terms
far from complimentary. At last, in one of his awkward maneuvers, he
accidentally pulled the trigger. Instantly there was a loud report,
followed by a piercing shriek from the road. The charge had entered
old Mrs. Payson's umbrella and knocked it out of her hand. The old
lady fancied herself hit, and fell backward, kicking energetically, and
screaming "murder" at the top of her lungs.

The musket had done double execution. It was too heavily loaded, and as
it went off, 'kicked,' leaving Pomp, about as scared as the old lady,
sprawling on the ground.

Henry Morton was only a few rods off when he heard the explosion. He at
once ran to the old lady's assistance, fancying her hurt. She shrieked
the louder on his approach, imagining that he was a robber, and had
fired at her.

"Go away!" she cried, in affright. "I ain't got any money. I'm a poor,
destitute widder!"

"What do you take me for?" inquired Mr. Morton, somewhat amazed at this
mode