Uncle John and his nieces were just finishing their eggs, which were
fresh and delicious. The milk was also a revelation. Through the windows
of the hotel several frowsy looking women and an open mouthed boy were
staring hard at the unconscious city folk.

Even Louise was in a mood for laughter as they mounted to the high seats
of the democrat. The glorious air, the clear sunshine and a satisfactory
if simple breakfast had put them all in a good humor with the world.

They stopped at the station for their hand baggage, and saw that the
trunks were properly loaded on the lumber wagon. Then, slowly, they
started to mount the long hill that began its incline just across
the tracks.

"Sure this is the way?" inquired Uncle John, perched beside the driver.

"I were horned here," answered the man, conclusively.

"That seems to settle it. Pretty big hill, that one ahead of us."

"It's the Little Bill. When we cross it, we're at Millville."

Seven miles of desolate country could not dampen the spirits of the
girls. Secretly each one was confident that Uncle John's unknown farm
would prove to be impossible, and that in a day or so at the latest they
would retrace their steps. But in the meantime the adventure was novel
and interesting, and they were prepared to accept the inevitable with
all graciousness.

When, after the long climb up the hill, they saw the quaint mill and the