“Oh! the deacon has made that quite a fad,” he was told by the obliging Thad.  “He doesn’t confine himself to figuring out just what sort of day we’ll have to-morrow, or even for the coming week.  He looks ahead, and finds out from the signs of Nature what sort of winter or summer we’re going to have next,—­cold, mild, hot, cool, dry or rainy.  And say, I’ve heard he hits it nearly every time.”

“Well, what did he say about this particular winter?” Hugh asked, with renewed interest; for such subjects always gripped his attention, because he believed some of these shrewd countrymen, who watched the weather and observed what was going on all around them, could tell better than any scientific gentleman what was liable to come along during the succeeding seasons.

“He predicted a severe winter,” replied Thad promptly.  “Some people laughed at what he said, especially when Christmas came and went, and so far we’d had precious little of cold.  But it’s come along at last, and from all reports some of the most dreadful weather ever known is happening away out in the Northwest right now.”

“And how does the old blacksmith get his ideas—­from Nature, you said, I believe, Thad?”

“He studies the bark on the trees; the way the squirrels store the nuts away; and how the caterpillars weave their cocoons.  Oh! he has a hundred different signs that he depends on before making up his mind.  I used to laugh when I heard him talking about it, but since I’ve grown older I’ve decided that there may be a whole lot in that sort of weather prediction.”

“I incline that same way,” agreed Hugh.  “Many of the little animals of the woods are given a wonderful instinct that enables them to know what to expect.  Even bees that always lay by a certain amount of honey for winter use, are said to stock up extra heavy on years when a severe winter comes along.  It must be a mighty interesting study, I should think.  Some time I mean to know the old deacon better, so as to get posted on his vast store of knowledge along those lines.”

“His wife is rather feeble now,” continued Thad.  “She’s a fine old lady though, and as cheery as can be, considering all things.”

“But if, as you said, she has to move around in one of those self-propelling wheel-chairs, how does she ever get her house-work done, Thad?”

“Oh! they have a girl in during the daytime,” came the explanation; “though Mrs. Winslow still mixes all the cakes and bread.  And, say, she does make the greatest crullers you ever tasted in your born days.  I know, because that couple are always sending things out to houses where there are growing boys.  Their world lies in boys only; you never hear either of them say a thing about girls.”

Hugh could easily understand that.  He had been in numerous homes where there were only boys in the family; and the parents knew next to nothing about the delight and constant anxiety of girls.