under whose branches the mill stood. How good it tasted to the thirsty
boy, as he drank slowly from a long-handled dipper that someone had
conveniently left hanging on the tree. When he had quenched his
thirst, he picked up his suitcase again, resting it on one shoulder,
and continued up the lane to the house.

"Hello, grandma!" he shouted, as he dropped his luggage on the porch
and hurried forward to meet her as she emerged from the kitchen door,
a steaming kettle of vegetables in her hand.

"Why, Bob, where'd you come from?" she exclaimed, setting the kettle
down and kissing him.

"I looked for grandfather and Uncle Joe when I got off the bus in
town, but I couldn't see them anywhere, so I walked out," he replied.

"Why, I'm sure they expected to meet you, Bob," she replied, "but the
roads are so rough, I suppose they were late. They took some grain to
the mill and would have to wait for it to be ground, and they may have
been delayed there--but you haven't told me yet how all the folks
are."

"Oh, they're all pretty well," he replied; "but tell me, when is Uncle
Joe to be married?"

"Some time in April, I believe," she replied. "Do you know you're to
be his chore boy this summer?"

"Yes, father told me--it will be lots of fun. Just think--no more
working all cooped up in a store like the last two summers," he