have carried her.

She went back to her cabin, after a while, and she continued to have her
three meals a day all the same as usual; but if she could have seen, as
Kate saw, how steadily the little fund for her support was diminishing
day by day, she would have had some reason for her apprehensions.

It was on a pleasant Saturday in early September, that Harry stood
looking over the front gate in his father's yard. Kate was at the
dining-room window, sewing. Harry was thinking, and Kate was wondering
what he was thinking about. She thought she knew, and she called out to
him: "I expect old Mr. Matthews would lend you a gun, Harry."

"Yes, I suppose he would," said Harry, turning and slowly walking up
toward the house; "but father told me not to borrow a gun from Truly
Matthews. It's a shame, though, to stay here when the fields are just
chock full of partridges. I never knew them so plenty in all my life.
It's just the way things go."

"It is a pity about your gun," said Kate. "There's some one at the gate,
Harry. Hadn't you better go and see what he wants? Father won't be home
until after dinner, you can tell him."

Harry turned.

"It's Mr. Martin," said he, and he went down to the gate to meet him.

"How do you do, Mr. President?" said Mr. Martin. "I rode over here this
morning, and thought I would come and see you."