downward upon it; there were my slippers; there was
"Come!" said Euphemia, "I can't bear to look in there. It's like a dead child."
And so we hurried out into the night and the rain.We stopped at the wood-shed and got an armful of dry kindling, which Euphemia was obliged to carry, as I had the bundle of bedclothing, the umbrella and the lantern.
Lord Edward gave a short, peculiar bark as we shut the gate behind us, but whether it was meant as a fond farewell or a hoot of derision I cannot say.
We found everything as we left it at the camp, and we made our beds apparently dry. But I did not sleep well. I could not help thinking that it was not safe to sleep in a bed with a substratum of wet mattress, and I worried Euphemia a little by asking her several times if she felt the dampness striking through.
To our great delight, the next day was fine and clear, and I thought I would like, better than anything else, to take Euphemia in a boat up the river and spend the day rowing about, or resting in shady places on the shore.
But what could we do about the tent? It would be impossible to go away and leave that, with its contents, for a whole day.
When old John came with our water, milk, bread, and a basket of vegetables, we told him of our desired excursion, and the difficulty in the way. This good man, who always had a keen scent for any advantage to himself, warmly praised the boating plan, and volunteered to send his wife and two of his younger children to stay with the tent while we were away.
The old woman, he said, could do her sewing here
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