The Peterkins had decided not to go to Egypt.

Of course the little boys were very much disappointed, so Mr. Peterkin said that he would take them out into the woods to get some maple syrup instead. But it was almost as difficult to arrange an excursion for maple sugar as to arrange for a trip to Egypt.

You see, sugar can not be made until it is warm enough to make the sap run. On the other hand, it must be cold enough for snow, as you can only reach the woods on snow-sleds.

Now, if there were sun enough for the sap to rise, it would melt the snow; and if it were cold enough for sledding, it must be too cold for the syrup. The little boys, however, said there always had been maple sugar every spring,—they had eaten it; why shouldn’t there be this spring?

Elizabeth Eliza said that this was probably old sugar they had eaten,—you never could tell in the shops.

Mrs. Peterkin thought there must be fresh sugar once in a while, as the old sugar would be eaten up. She felt the same about chickens. She never could understand why there were only the old, tough ones in the market, when there were certainly fresh young broods to be seen around the farmhouses every year.

She supposed the market-men had begun with the old, tough fowls, and so they had to go on so. She wished they had begun the other way; and she had done her best to have the family eat up the old fowls, hoping they might, some day, get down to the young ones.

As to the weather, she suggested they should go to Grandfather’s the day before. But how can you go the day before, when you don’t know the day?

All were much delighted, therefore, when Hiram appeared with the wood-sled, one evening, to take them, as early as possible the next day, to their grandfather’s.

He said that the sap had started, the kettles had been on some time, there had been a slight snow for sleighing, and to-morrow promised to be a fine day.

It was decided that he should take the little boys and Elizabeth Eliza in the wood-sled; the others would follow later, in the carryall.

Mrs. Peterkin thought it would be safer to have some of the party go on wheels, in case of a thaw the next day.

A brilliant sun awoke them in the morning. The wood-sled was filled with hay, to make it warm and comfortable, and an armchair was tied in for Elizabeth Eliza.

The little boys put on their India-rubber boots and their red mittens. Elizabeth Eliza took a shawl, a hot brick, and a big bag of cookies, and they started off.

In passing the school-house the little boys saw five of their friends, who had reached the school door a full hour before the time. They asked these five boys to go with them, but Elizabeth Eliza thought they ought to inquire if their parents would be willing they should go, as they all expected to spend the night at Grandfather’s.

Hiram thought it would take too much time to ask all the parents; if the sun kept on shining so brightly, the snow would be gone before they would reach the woods.

But the little boys said that most of these boys lived in a row, and Elizabeth Eliza felt she ought not to take the boys away for all night without asking their parents.

At each place they were obliged to stop for tippets and great-coats and India-rubber boots for the little boys. At the Harrimans’, too, the Harriman girls insisted on dressing up the wood-sled with evergreens, and made one of the boys bring the Christmas tree that was leaning up against the barn, to set it up in the back of the sled, over Elizabeth Eliza.

All this took a good deal of time; and when they reached the highroad again, the snow was indeed fast melting. Elizabeth Eliza thought they ought to turn back, but Hiram said they would find the sleighing better farther up among the hills.

The armchair joggled about a good deal, and the Christmas tree creaked and swayed, and Hiram was obliged to stop once in a while and tie in the chair and the tree more firmly.

But the warm sun was very pleasant, the eight little boys were very lively, and the sleigh bells jingled gaily as they went on.

It was so late when they reached the wood-road that Hiram decided they had better not go up the hill to their grandfather’s, but turn off into the woods.

“Your grandfather will be up at the sugar camp by this time,” he declared.

Elizabeth Eliza was afraid the carryall would miss them, and thought they had better wait. Hiram did not like to wait longer, and said that one or two of the little boys could stop to show the way.

But it was so difficult to decide which little boys should stay that he gave it up. So he explained that there was a lunch hidden somewhere in the straw; and the little boys thought this was a good time to eat it, so they decided to stop in the sun at the corner of the road.

Elizabeth Eliza felt a little jounced in the armchair, and was glad of a rest; and the boys soon discovered a good lunch,—just what might have been expected from Grandfather’s,—apple pie and doughnuts, and plenty of them! “It is lucky we brought so many little boys!” they exclaimed.

Hiram, however, began to grow impatient. “There’ll be no snow left,” he exclaimed, “and no afternoon for the syrup!”

But far in the distance the Peterkin carryall was seen slowly approaching through the snow, Solomon John waving a red handkerchief. The little boys waved back, and Hiram turned the sled into the wood-road, but he drove slowly, as Elizabeth Eliza still feared that by some accident the family might miss them.

It was difficult for the carryall to follow in the deep but soft snow, in among the trunks of the trees and over piles of leaves hidden in the snow.

At last they reached the edge of a meadow. On the high bank above it stood a row of maples, and back of which was a little shanty with smoke coming out of its chimney. The little boys screamed with delight, but there was no reply. Nobody there!

“The folks all gone!” exclaimed Hiram; “then we must be late.” And he proceeded to pull out a large silver watch from a side pocket. It was so large that he seldom was at the pains to pull it out, as it took time; but when he had succeeded at last, and looked at it, he started.

“Late, indeed! It is four o’clock, and we were to have been here by eleven; they have given you up.”

The little boys wanted to force in the door; but Hiram said it was no use,—they wouldn’t understand what to do, and he should have to see to the horses,—and it was too late, and very likely the men had carried off all the syrup.

But he thought a minute, as they all stood in silence and gloom; and then he guessed they might find some sugar at Deacon Spear’s, close by, on the back road, and that would be better than nothing.

Mrs. Peterkin was pretty cold, and glad not to wait in the darkening wood; so the eight little boys walked through the wood-path, Hiram leading the way; and slowly the carryall followed.

They reached Deacon Spear’s at length; but only Mrs. Spear was at home. She was very deaf, but could explain that the family had taken all their syrup to the sugar festival.

“We might go to the festival,” exclaimed the boys.

“It would be very well,” said Mrs. Peterkin, “to eat our fresh syrup there.”

But Mrs. Spear could not tell where the festival was to be, as she had not heard; perhaps they might know at Squire Ramsay’s.

Squire Ramsay’s was on their way to Grandfather’s, so they stopped there. They were told that the “Squire’s folks” had all gone with their syrup to the festival. The man who was chopping wood did not know where the festival was to be.

“They’ll know at your grandfather’s,” said Mrs. Peterkin, from the carryall.

“Yes, go on to your grandfather’s,” advised Mr. Peterkin, “for I think I felt a drop of rain.” So they made the best of their way to Grandfather’s.

At the moment they reached the door of the house, a party of young people whom Elizabeth Eliza knew came by in sleighs. She had met them all when visiting at her grandfather’s.

“Come along with us,” they shouted; “we are all going down to the sugar festival.”

“That is what we have come for,” said Mr. Peterkin.

“Where is it?” asked Solomon John.

“It is down your way,” was the reply.

“It is in your own New Hall,” said another. “We have sent down all our syrup. The Spears and Ramsays and Doolittles have gone on with theirs. No time to stop; there’s good sleighing on the old road.”

Hiram said he could take them back with the wood-sled, when he heard there was sleighing on the old road. So it was decided that the whole party should go in the wood-sled, with the exception of Mr. Peterkin, who would follow on with the carryall.

Mrs. Peterkin would take the armchair, and cushions were put in for Elizabeth Eliza, and more apple pie for all. No more drops of rain appeared, though the clouds were thickening over the setting sun.

“All the way back again,” sighed Mrs. Peterkin, “when we might have stayed at home all day, and gone quietly out to the New Hall!” But the little boys thought the sledding was great fun,—and the apple pie! “And we did see the kettle through the cracks of the shanty!”

—Lucretia P. Hale.