He readily agreed not to fire at robins except when flying, and to induce Junior to do likewise.  I was satisfied that not many of my little favorites would suffer.

“Very well,” I said, “I’ll coax Mr. Jones to let Junior off to-morrow, and you can have the entire day to get your hands in.  This evening you can go down to the village and buy a stock of ammunition.”

The boy went to his work happy and contented.

“Papa, where can we dry our butternuts?” Winnie asked.

“I’ll fix a place on the roof of the shed right away,” I said.  “Its slope is very gradual, and if I nail some slats on the lower side you can spread the millions of bushels that you and Bobsey will gather.”

Now Bobsey had a little wagon, and, having finished his morning stint of work, he, with Mousie and Winnie, started off to the nearest butternut-tree; and during the remainder of the day, with the exception of the time devoted to lessons, loads came often to the shed, against which I had left a ladder.  By night they had at least one of the million bushels spread and drying.

As they brought in their last load about five o’clock in the afternoon I said to them, “Come and see what I’ve got.”

I led the way to the sty, and there were grunting three half-grown pigs.  Now that the pen was ready I had waited no longer, and, having learned from Rollins that he was willing to sell some of his stock, had bought three sufficiently large to make good pork by the 1st of December.

The children welcomed the new-comers with shouts; but I said:  “That won’t do.  You’ll frighten them so that they’ll try to jump out of the pen.  Run now and pick up a load of apples in your wagon and throw them to the pigs.  They’ll understand and like such a welcoming better;” and so it proved.

At supper I said:  “Children, picking up apples, which was such fun this evening, will hereafter be part of your morning work, for a while.  In the room over the sty is a bin which must be filled with the fallen apples before any nuts can be gathered.”

Even Bobsey laughed at the idea that this was work; but I knew that it would soon become so.  Then Mousie exclaimed, “Papa, do you know that the red squirrels are helping us to gather nuts?”

“If so, certainly without meaning it.  How?”

“Well, as we were coming near one of the trees we saw a squirrel among the branches, and we hid behind a bush to watch him.  We soon found that he was tumbling down the nuts, for he would go to the end of a limb and bite cluster after cluster.  The thought that we would get the nuts so tickled Bobsey that he began to laugh aloud, and then the squirrel ran barking away.”

“You needn’t crow so loud, Bobsey,” I said.  “The squirrel will fill many a hole in hollow trees before winter, in spite of you.”

“I’ll settle his business before he steals many more of our nuts,” spoke up Merton.