o' the day to see if he can't see the boat coming in." And
Leander looked round to see if we were not amused, and seemed puzzled
because we didn't laugh. Happily, his next story was funny.

We saw a sleepy little owl on the dead branch of a pine-tree; we saw a
rabbit cross the road and disappear in a clump of juniper, and squirrels
run up and down trees and along the stone-walls with acorns in their
mouths. We passed straggling thickets of the upland sumach, leafless,
and holding high their ungainly spikes of red berries; there were sturdy
barberry-bushes along the lonely wayside, their unpicked fruit hanging
in brilliant clusters. The blueberry-bushes made patches of dull red
along the hillsides. The ferns were whitish-gray and brown at the edges
of the woods, and the asters and golden-rods which had lately looked so
gay in the open fields stood now in faded, frost-bitten companies. There
were busy flocks of birds flitting from field to field, ready to start
on their journey southward.

When we reached the house, to our surprise there was no one in sight and
the place looked deserted. We left the wagon, and while Leander went
toward the barn, which stood at a little distance, Kate and I went to
the house and knocked. I opened the door a little way and said "Hallo!"
but nobody answered. The people could not have moved away, for there
were some chairs standing outside the door, and as I looked in I saw the
bunches of herbs hanging up, and a trace of corn, and the furniture was
all there. It was a great disappointment, for we had counted upon seeing
the children again. Leander said there was nobody at the barn, and that
they must have gone to a funeral; he couldn't think of anything else.

Just now we saw some people coming up the road, and we thought at first
that they were the man and his wife coming back; but they proved to be
strangers, and we eagerly asked what had become of the family.

"They're dead, both on 'em. His wife she died about nine weeks ago last
Sunday, and he died day before yesterday. Funeral's going to be this
afternoon. Thought ye were some of her folks from up country, when we
were coming along," said the man.

"Guess they won't come nigh," said the woman, scornfully; "'fraid
they'd have to help provide for the children. I was half-sister to him,
and I've got to take the two least ones."

"Did you say he was going to be buried this afternoon?" asked Kate,
slowly. We were both more startled tha