Boiling Apple Butter

Amanda rose early the next morning. Apple-butter boiling day was
always a happy one for her. She liked to watch the fire under the big
copper kettle, to help with the ceaseless stirring with a long-handled
stirrer. She thrilled at the breathless moment when her mother tested
the thick, dark contents of the kettle and announced, "It's done."

At dawn she went up the stairs with Uncle Amos to the big attic and
opened and closed doors for him as he carried the heavy copper kettle
down to the yard. Then she made the same trip with Millie and helped to
carry from the attic heavy stone crocks in which to store the apple
butter.

After breakfast she went out to the grassy spot in the rear of the
garden where an iron tripod stood and began to gather shavings and
paper in readiness for the fire. She watched Millie scour the great
copper kettle until its interior shone, then it was lifted on the
tripod, the cider poured into it, and the fire started. Logs were fed
to the flames until a roaring fire was in blast. Several times Millie
skimmed the foam from the cider.

"This is one time when signs don't work," the hired girl confided to
the child. "Your Aunt Rebecca says that if you cook apple butter in the
up-sign of the almanac it boils over easy, but it's the down-sign
to-day, and yet this cider boils up all the time."

"I guess it'll all burn in the bottom," said Amanda, "if it's the
down-sign."