By this time the rest of the party had arrived. Grace and Cassy walked
together very confidentially under the same umbrella which had sheltered
them years ago--a black one marked with white paint, "Stolen from H.S.
Clifford." "Bold thieves" Horace called them; but they deigned no notice
of his remark.

"I'll get an answer," murmured Horace, repeating aloud,--

"'Hey for the apple and ho for the pear,
But give me the girl with the red hair.'"

At this Grace turned around sharply, and shook her bare head, which
gleamed in the sun like burnt gold.

"Panoria Swan has red hair," said she,--"fire-red; but mine is auburn."

"O, I only wanted to make you speak, Grace; that will do."

"Here we are at the woods," said Mr. Clifford. He had once owned a
neighboring lot, and his pecan trees had been fenced around to protect
them from the impertinent swine; but now the party were going into the
heart of the forest.

The pecan trees were tall, somewhat like maples, with the nuts growing
on them in shucks, after the manner of walnuts. These shucks, if left
till the coming of frost, would have opened of themselves, and scattered
the nuts to the ground; but our friends preferred to gather a few
bushels before they were perfectly ripened, rather than lose them
altogether.