A consignment of his hop poles from the north had arrived at the freight office of the P.and S.W.in Bonneville, and he was to drive in on his farm wagon and bring them out.

He would have a busy day.
"Hello, hello," he said, as his mother pulled his ear to arouse him; "morning, mamma." "It's time," she said, "after five already.

Your breakfast is on the stove." He took her hand and kissed it with great affection.

He loved his mother devotedly, quite as much as he did the little tad.

In their little cottage, in the forest of green hops that surrounded them on every hand, the three led a joyous and secluded life, contented, industrious, happy, asking nothing better.