Billie?" Of course you went, because there were all kinds of shops on
the way up town to the wood market and grandfather always had an extra
nickle for such occasions.

Can't you just see that wood-market now, as it used to be in the Long
Ago - with its big platform scales - and its wagons of accurately-piled
cord-wood marked on the end of some stick with the white chalk-mark of
the official "inspector" and measurer - and the farmers all bundled-up
and tied-around with various cold-dispelling devices and big mitts and
fur caps? So far as you could tell then (or now, either, I'll wager!)
every load was exactly like every other load - but not so to
grandfather, for he would scrutinize them all, sound them with his
stick, barter and dicker and look out for knots - and then make the
rounds again and do it all over before finally making his selection -
and I distinctly remember feeling that the wood left in market after
grandfather had made his selection wasn't worth hauling away!

Load after load was driven up to the high backyard fence and its sticks
heaved into the yard and piled in perfect order - and it made a goodly
and formidable showing when Old Pete, the wood-sawyer, finally arrived
on the scene. The time of wood-buying was determined partly by Pete's
engagements - he went first to the Perkinses and next to the Williamses
and so on in rotation as he had done for years, his entire winter being
"engaged" far ahead. It did not seem possible, to boyish mind, that one
man could ever get all that wood sawed and split, even if he was a great
giant Norseman with the finest buck-saw in the country.

But each year Old Pete's prowess seemed to increase - and day after day
the ceaseless music of his saw sounded across the crisp air - and the
measured strokes of his axe struck a clarion note - until finally the