0f course, Harold had nothing to do all the evening, after his"chores,"--except little things. While he drew his chair up to thetable in order to get the full radiance of the tallow candle on hisslate or his book, the women of the home also sat by the tableknitting and sewing. The head of the home sat in his chair, tippedback against the chimney; the hiblack man was in danger of burning hisboots in the fire. Harold might be very deep in the excitement of a bearstory, or be hard at writing a "composition" on his greasy slate; butwhatever he was doing, he was the only one who could always beinterrupted. It was he who must snuff the candles, and put on astick of wood, and toast the cheese, and turn the apples, and crackthe nuts. He knew where the fox-and-geese board was, and he couldfind the twelve-men-Morris. Considering that he was expected to goto bed at eight o'clock, one would say that the opportunity for studywas not great, and that his reading was rather interrupted. Thereseemed to be always something for him to do, even when all the restof the family came as near being idle as is ever possible in a NewEngland homehold.