“Why, you silly child, what business is it to you what he wrote?” said her mother.  “Don’t ask any more such foolish questions; Oscar will think you have n’t got common sense if you do.”

“Did you write anything about me?” continued Emily, in a lower tone.

“Did you hear me, Emily?” inquired Mrs. Preston, in a sharper tone.

“O no, I did n’t write much,” said Oscar, in reply to Emily; “there’s nothing in the letter that you would care about seeing.”

“I did n’t know you were going to seal up the letter so soon.  I wanted to send a message to Alice and Ella,” continued Emily.

“You are too late now,” replied Oscar; “but I ’ll give you a chance next time.  What message do you want to send?”

“You must n’t be so inquisitive,” said Emily, with a laugh; “just as though I were going to tell you, when you would n’t let me read the letter!”

“Well, I can tell you one thing,—­I don’t want to know,” replied Oscar.  “Aunt Eliza, do you know where Jerry is?”

“He has gone with his father down to the meadow lot,” replied Mrs. Preston.  “I guess they will be back before a great while.”

Oscar set out for the “meadow lot,” which was a quarter of a mile from the house, on the other side of the river.  He had not gone far, however, when he met Mr. Preston and Jerry returning.

“I ’ve written my letter, uncle, and it’s all ready to go to the post-office,” said Oscar; “can’t Jerry and I carry it over?”

“I ’ll see about that this afternoon,” said Mr. Preston; “I ’ve got something else for Jerry to do now.”

“I ’m going over to the old wood-lot to get a load of mulching,” said Jerry to Oscar; “and you can go too, if you want to.”

“Mulching—­what is that?” inquired Oscar.

“It’s stuff that they put around young trees, to keep the roots from drying up in summer,” replied Jerry.  “You know all those small apple and pear trees back of the barn? well, it’s to put around them.”

Having reached the house, the boys ate some luncheon, and then proceeded to tackle Billy into the hay-cart.  After Mr. Preston had given Jerry sundry cautions and directions, which the latter seemed to think quite unnecessary, the boys hopped into the cart, and drove off towards the woods.  Mr. Preston owned several tracts of woodland in Brookdale.  The lot to which the boys were going, was called the “old” one, because the wood had all been cut off once, and it was now covered with a young growth, not large enough for firewood.  It was but a short distance from the house, and the boys soon reached the spot, and commenced operations.  They were each provided with large jack-knives, and with these they proceeded to lop off the young and tender ends of the birches, which trees were quite abundant in that spot; for birches are very apt to spring up after a pine forest has been cleared away.  Many of the trees were yet so small, that the boys did not have to climb up to reach the branches.