"Did he? Well, if that's so, it is all right," replied her mother, in a
tone of relief, and then she filled a tin pail with nut-cakes, laid a
clean, brown napkin over them, and then shut in the cover and set it on
the dresser, saying:

"There, they've got cheese with them, and you'll reach camp before they
eat their noon lunch. Now, get on your leggin's and thick shoes, and
your coat and cap and mittens, and eat some cakes before you start, so
as not to take theirs when you get there."

"I wouldn't do that, neither; not if I never had any," replied Roxie, a
little resentfully, and then she pulled her squirrel-skin cap well over
her ears, tied her pretty scarlet tippet around her neck, and held up
her face for a good-bye kiss. The mother gave it with unusual fervor,
and said, kindly:

"Good-bye to you, little girl. Take good care of yourself, and come
safe home to mother."

"Yes, Ma. But I may wait and come with them, mayn't I? They'll let me
ride on old Rob, you know."

"Why, yes, you might as well, I suppose, though I'll be lonesome
without you all day, baby. But it would be better for you to ride home,
so stay."

It was a lovely day in the latter part of March, and although the
ground was covered with snow, and the brooks and rivers were still fast
bound in ice, there was something in the air that told of
spring,--something that set the sap in the maple-trees mounting through