"The floor of that corn-barn," observed its proprietor, "is covered with
husks about four foot deep. Under those husks is my patent screw and a
lot of cider-fixins. That old mill's a rattle-trap, any way. There's a
place at the other end of the orchard a sight more handy for a new one.
So, when folks get to reading their Bible without leaving out the
marriage in Cana, why"--

"Then you have been badgered into this," I said, seeing that the Deacon
was not disposed to finish his sentence.

"Well, they've been pecking at me pretty hard; and when Mis' Greenlaw
and the girls went over, of course I couldn't hold out. I kept telling
'em that the Lord gave us apples, and I didn't believe He cared whether
we eat 'em or drank 'em. But you see I had to knock under."

I questioned if it was going to rain, after all; for the clouds were
scudding off to the east.

"They're just following the bend of the river," asserted the Deacon,
elevating his chin to bring them within range, and giving them a
significant nod, as if to recall an appointment. "These apple-trees will
be dripping well before night. I know the weather-signs in Foxden. It
_is_ going to rain,--and, what's more, when it does rain, it'll rain
artichokes,--and, what's more than that, I don't care if it does!"


III.

A wretched fragment of the singing-class met at the house of Mrs.