OLD HOMESTEAD 



I knew his disposition for candor and veracity; but we went to 

 work, I doing the most of it. His heart did not seem to be in it. 



We cleaned out the coal and cinders in the pan, rubbed and 

 scoured it down with a brick, washed it out, again rubbed and 

 scoured and washed again, yet the damnable evidence still 

 remained in scales on the rough, burned bottom of the pan, 

 which could not be gotten off or out. Having done the best 

 possible in this direction, I threw the burnt cinders and stuff 

 cleaned out of the pan into the ash-heap at the door and 

 covered it well with the coals and ashes taken from under the 

 arch, filled up the pan with fresh sap and again started the fire. 



Then I began to revolve in my mind what story to tell when 

 questioned, as I certainly would be when father came up, which 

 would be about eight o'clock. It seemed as if the smoke of the 

 burnt sugar would never leave the woods. At eight o'clock 

 father came. I did not go out to meet him at the forks of the 

 road near by, as was customary, but was busy tucking up the 

 fire and doing other work about the shanty. He got off the 

 sled and came around the corner of the shanty to the door where 

 I was, and exclaimed, ''Whew! What's the matter? What 

 has happened? " 



I promptly replied, '' The pan has been boiling over." 



"Well, I should think so," he said; ''Ismelled it away 

 down at the edge of the woods. I thought you had burned up 

 the whole batch. What made it rise? " 



''Sour sap," I guessed. 



"It is too early in the season for that. Did you have any 

 pork?" 



"No, sir; it was all gone." I had taken pains that it had 

 gone into the fire. 



"Well, why didn't you use cold sap?" 



SI 



