The October frosts came, sweetening the persimmons and ripening the nuts in the hazel copse; but it nipped the children’s bare feet, and made the thinly clad little shoulders shiver.  John Jay gladly shuffled into the old clothes sent over from Rosehaven.  They were many sizes too big, but he turned back the coat sleeves and hitched up his suspenders, regardless of appearances.  Bud fared better, for the suit that fell to his lot was but slightly worn, and almost fitted him.  As for Ivy, she was decked out in such finery that the boys scarcely dared to touch her.  She had been given a long blue velvet cloak that the youngest Haven could no longer squeeze into.  It was trimmed with shaggy fur that had once been white.  Ivy admired it so much that when she was not wearing it out of doors she was carrying it around in the house in a big roll, as tenderly as if it had been a great doll.

It was an odd little procession that filed past Uncle Billy’s house every day, on the way to the woods for autumn stores.  John Jay came first, with a rickety wagon he had made out of a soap-box and two solid wooden wheels.  He looked like a little old man, with his long coat and turned up trowsers.  Bud came next in his new suit, but he had lost his hat, and was obliged to wear a handkerchief tied over his ears.  Ivy brought up the rear, continually tripping on her long cloak, and jolting her white toboggan cap down over her eyes at almost every step.

Nuts and persimmons and wild fox-grapes filled the little wagon many times, and made a welcome addition to Mammy’s meagre bill of fare.

Late one evening John Jay came running up the path all out of breath.  The yellow candle-light streamed out through the cabin window.  He stopped and looked in, sniffing the air with keen enjoyment, for Mammy was stewing the rabbit he had caught that morning in a snare.

He could see Bud sitting on the floor, with his feet harnessed up as horses.  He was sawing the reins back and forth and remorselessly switching his own legs until they flew up and down in fine style.  John Jay watched him with a grin on his face.

Presently Mammy, turning to season the stew, saw the black face pressed close against the window-pane.  With a startled shriek she gave the pepper-pot such a shake that the lid flew off, and nearly all of the pepper went into the stew.

“Jus’ see what you done!” she scolded, as John Jay walked into the house an instant later.  “Next time you come gawkin’ in the window at me in the dark, I’ll peppah you ‘stid o’ the rabbit!”

John Jay hastened to change the subject.  “I sole a bushel of hickory nuts to Mistah Bemis jus’ now,” he stammered, “an’ he’s goin’ to take some mo’ next week.  I’m savin’ up to get you all somethin’ mighty nice for Chrismus.”  He jingled his pockets suggestively; but Mammy was too busy skimming the pepper out of the stew to make any reply.

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