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Page 39
"Oh, do somebody get us a pine tree!" cried Bell. "That is truly
delightful! We must try it some day. Now it is my turn. I quote
from Mrs. Rundell the glorious. This is what she gives to the
poor; I don't want to be poor in Mrs. Rundell's parish.
"'Cut a very thick upper crust of bread, and put it into the pot
where salt beef is boiling and near ready; it will attract some of
the fat, and, when swelled out, will be no unpalatable dish to
those who rarely taste meat.' That is called a brewis, my dear;
suppose we give it to our pampered family here some day, and see
what they say. How nearly are your biscuits done? I hear the
people growling inside, like hungry bears. Uncle Pickerel is
beginning to smell very good."
"Another five minutes will give them the requisite 'beautiful
light brown'" said Hildegarde, peeping into the oven. "And the tea
is made, and the potatoes are tearing off their jackets in
impatience to be eaten."
"Are we going to have any supper?" asked Phil, looking in from the
dining-room. "Roger has fainted with hunger, and lies a pallid
heap on the floor, and Obadiah is gnawing his boots in his agony."
"As long as he does not swallow the nails," said Bell, calmly, "it
will do him no harm. Have the babes got the table ready?"
"All ready, sister!" cried Kitty. "Cups and saucers and plates,
and--oh, Willy, we have forgotten the butter! Why do we always
forget the butter?"
In five minutes the whole family were seated round the table, with
the lamp burning brightly above their heads. Bell came in
triumphantly, bearing the mighty pickerel in their glory, on a
huge platter decorated with green leaves and golden-rod.
Hildegarde followed, flushed and sparkling, with her biscuits and
coffee; and every one fell to with right good will.
"Why is it that everything tastes so good here?" demanded Will.
"At home I can't always eat as much as I want to, and here I can
always eat more than there is; and yet there is lots!" he added,
surveying the broad table, heaped with substantial victuals of
every sort.
"Ah! that's the beauty of it!" cried Gerald, spearing a potato.
"The human capacity enlarges, my son, with every mile one retires
from civilisation. When I was a Kickapoo Indian, Willy, I ate for
three weeks without stopping, and I had three buffaloes at a--"
"Gerald, my dear!" said Mrs. Merryweather.
"Yes, Mater, my dear!" said the unblushing Gerald. "I was only
trying to expand his mind, like the Ninkum. Excellent biscuits,
Miss Hilda! three more, if you please."
CHAPTER XI.
A NIGHT-PIECE.
It was clear moonlight when the girls went to bed; clear, that is,
to Hildegarde's unpractised eyes. She saw only the brilliant stars
overhead, and took no note of the low bank of cloud in the south.
Captain Roger (for Roger was in command at camp, Mr. Merryweather
only coming out at night on his bicycle, and going in again to his
business in the morning), after a critical survey of the sky, went
the rounds in his quiet way before bedtime, making all secure, but
said nothing to anybody. Going to bed was a matter of some labour
at the camp. During the day the beds were piled one on top of
another in the one bedroom, the blankets, after hanging in the air
for two or three hours, being folded and laid over them. Only in
the tent where Mr. and Mrs. Merryweather slept the beds remained
stationary all day, the sides of the tent being rolled high, to
let the air circulate in every direction.
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