“We may thus keep a supply of this wholesome vegetable some weeks longer,” I said.

Everything that we could protect was looked after; but our main task was the gathering of all the grapes except those hanging against the sides of the house.  These I believed would be so sheltered as to escape injury.  We had been enjoying this delicious fruit for some time, carrying out our plan, however, of reserving the best for the market.  The berries on the small clusters were just as sweet and luscious, and the children were content.

Sure enough, on the following morning white hoar-frost covered the grass and leaves.

“No matter,” cried Winnie, at the breakfast-table; “the chestnut burrs are opening.”

By frequent stirring the rest of the corn-fodder was soon dried again, and was stacked like the rest.  Then we took up the beets and carrots, and stored them also in the root cellar.

We had frost now nearly every night, and many trees were gorgeous in their various hues, while others, like the butternuts, were already losing their foliage.

The days were filled with delight for the children.  The younger ones were up with the sun to gather the nuts that had fallen during the night, Merton accompanying them with his gun, bringing in squirrels daily, and now and then a robin shot while flying.  His chief exploit however was the bagging of half a dozen quails that unwarily chose the lower part of our meadow as a resort.  Then he and Junior took several long outings in the Highlands, with fair success; for the boys had become decidedly expert.

“If we only had a dog,” said Merton, “we could do wonders.”

“Both of you save your money next summer, and buy one,” I replied; “I’ll give you a chance, Merton.”

By the middle of the month the weather became dry and warm, and the mountains were almost hidden in an Indian summer haze.

“Now for the corn-husking,” I said, “and the planting of the ground in raspberries, and then we shall be through with our chief labors for the year.”

Merton helped me at the husking, but I allowed him to keep his gun near, and he obtained an occasional shot which enlivened his toil.  Two great bins over the sty and poultry-house received the yellow ears, the longest and fairest being stored in one, and in the other the “nubbin’s,” speedily to be transformed into pork.  Part of the stalks were tied up and put in the old “corn-stalk barn,” as we called it, and the remainder were stacked near.  Our cow certainly was provided for.

Brindle now gave too little milk for our purpose, whereas a farmer with plenty of fodder could keep her over the winter to advantage.  I traded her off to a neighboring farmer for a new milch cow, and paid twenty dollars to boot.  We were all great milk-topers, while the cream nearly supplied us with butter.