To this the boy made no answer, but again said that he would go after the milk.
"We want you to bring no milk," I cried, now quite angry. "I want you to go down to the station and tell the driver of the express waggon to come here immediately. Do you understand? Immediately!"
The boy declared he understood, and started off quite willingly. We did not prefer to have the express waggon, for it was too public a conveyance, and besides, old John knew exactly how to do what was required. But we need not have troubled ourselves. The express waggon did not come.
When it became dark, we saw that we could not leave that night. Even if a waggon did come, it would not be safe to drive over the fields in the darkness. And we could not go away and leave the camp equipage. I proposed that Euphemia should go up to the house while I remained in camp. But she declined. We would keep together whatever happened, she said.
We unpacked our cooking utensils and provisions and had supper. There was no milk for our coffee, but we did not care. The evening did not pass gaily.
We were annoyed by the conduct of old John and the express boy, though perhaps it was not their fault. I had given them no notice that I should need them.
And we were greatly troubled at the continuance of the secrecy and subterfuge which now had become really necessary if we did not wish to hurt our friends' feelings.
The first thing that I thought of when I opened my eyes in the morning, was the fact that we would have to stay there all day, for we could not move on Sunday.
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