ey from boiling, and the children were rather impatient for that
stage to be reached. At last, however, Rudolph announced excitedly, "It
boils, it boils! and now I mustn't leave it for a minute. More wood,
Mabel! don't be so slow, and, Tattine, hurry Philip up with that ice,"
but Philip was seen at that moment bringing a large piece of ice in a
wheelbarrow, so Tattine was saved that journey, and devoted the time
instead to spreading out one of the pieces of wrapping-paper, to keep
the ice from the ground, because of the dead leaves and "things" that
were likely to cling to it.

"Now break off a good-sized piece, Tattine," Rudolph directed, "and put
it on a piece of paper near the fire," but Tattine knew that was the
next thing to do, so what was the use of Rudolph's telling her? It
happens quite frequently that people who are giving directions give too
many by far.

"Now, Mabel," continued the drum-major, "will you please bring some
more wood, and will you please put your mind on it and keep bringing
it? These little twigs that make the best fire burn out in a twinkling,
please notice," but Mabel did not hurry so very much for the next
armful; since she could see for herself there was no great need for
haste. Rudolph was simply getting excited, but then the making of
maple-wax is such a very responsible undertaking, he could not be blamed
for that. You need to stop its boiling at precisely the right moment,
else it suddenly reaches the point where, when you cool it, it grows
brittle like "taffy," and then good-bye to maple-wax for that kettleful.
So Rudolph, every half-minute, kept dripping little streams of the
boiling sugar from the spoon upon the piece of ice, and Tattine and
Mabel kept testing it with their fingers and tongues, until both at last
exclaimed in one and the same breath, "It's done! it's done! Lift it
off the fire quickly; it's just right." Just right means when the sugar
hardens in a few seconds, or in a little more than half a minute, into
a delicious consistency like--well, just like maple-wax, for there is
nothing else in the world that I know of with which to compare it.
Then the children seated themselves around the great cake of ice, and
Rudolph, with the kettle on the ground beside him, tipped against a log
of wood at just the right angle, continued to be master of ceremonies,
and dipped spoonful after spoonful of the syrup, and let it trickle over
the ice in queer fantastic shapes or in little