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want you to help her clean the suckers. Did you know that’s all there is this time of year—suckers! They’re awfully bony fish. So my mother and sisters will be busy all day putting them up.”
    At Bonnie’s perplexed look, Archie explained, “Mum chops up the meat with the butcher knife and chugs it into glass jars. Then she pours in some sauce made of vinegar and salt and spices, and she screws the lids on tight.”
    Bonnie understood. “We call those jars ‘sealers.’ Mum does most of her preserves in sealers—but never fish. Don’t suckers have to be cooked?”
    â€œThey cook inside the jars. Mum seals the full jars real tight and puts them into her copper washing kettle on top of the stove. Then she pours water in until the jars are covered. Then she boils the water.”
    Bonnie was dubious. “I don’t think my mother would do all that for suckers,” she said. “She doesn’t even like the salmon and bass that Dad caught in Bay of Quinte back home. So why would she keep these old suckers? She’ll cook up a few in our iron spider frying pan, but after we’ve all choked on the bones, she’ll toss the rest away.”
    â€œOh, the bones won’t hurt you. After they’re boiled in that vinegar, they go all soft. You won’t know which is bones and which is sucker!”
    â€œEeuggh!”
    â€œNo, they’re good!” Archie insisted. “Mum opens the jars up one at a time, adds flour, and then rolls the fish into little patties and fries them up. They taste almost like salmon balls!”
    â€œMaybe that’s not quite so bad.”
    â€œJust wait till you try it! Now I’ve got to head home. See you!”
    â€œSee you,” said Bonnie, as she squeezed through the fence and started running up the hill. She wanted to get as far as she could while Archie was still in sight. As soon as she reached the top of the hill, she hoped she’d be able to see the barn and the house on the other side.

    â€œWhat good are these awful fish?” Mum was shouting.
    Bonnie had just come running into their big all-purpose dining room. But she stopped short when she heard the angry voices coming from the backyard. She opened the back door and peeked out. Her parents were glaring at each other.
    â€œIt’ll be food in our stomachs this winter. We don’t have any meat.”
    â€œBut I’ve never preserved fish! I don’t even know if it’s safe. We’ll all die of poison.”
    â€œOh, yes, it’s safe,” said Bonnie. Both parents looked at her, perplexed.
    â€œWhat do you know about cooking?” Dad chuckled. It was no secret that Bonnie hated to cook and that her mother complained about anything Bonnie tried to make.
    â€œI know all about preserving those suckers! Archie told me. His mother has a special recipe. They clean the fish and put them in sealers on the stove and boil them for hours—and the bones all soften and then they put them in the cold cellar all winter and they keep just fine.” Dad was laughing now, but Mum was listening.
    â€œThomas, carry those sacks down to the cellar. Then we are going to visit our neighbours. I need that recipe right away.”

    Duke and Rose lumbered up the hilly lane, pulling the wagon toward the road that led to the Johnsons’ farm. Mum sat beside Dad on the high seat and Bonnie was perched behind him on a bag of grain. It was a bit windy in the open air, but Bonnie didn’t mind. She was overjoyed to be visiting her new friends.
    Dad let the horses fly up the hills, through the woods, and onto the road at the western edge of the farm. He turned north—not south toward Burnham’s Dam. Then at the top of a steep, short hill, they looked down the sloping lane to a valley where a red brick house and a grey barn were sheltered by a line of spruce and basswood trees.
    â€œWell, I do believe we’ve