“I think so. Read the list, Agatha.”
“Potatoes and apples to roast—” began Agatha.
“There, now!” said Jackie, and the next minute he was plunging in at the kitchen door.
“I knew you’d forget something,” said Mary triumphantly. “What a good idea it was of mine to have a list!”
Jackie soon came back with a knobbly-looking canvas bag in his hand, and followed by Fraülein Schnipp the German governess.
“I say,” he said, “we’ve forgotten Fraülein’s camp-stool and sketching things; and she says she can’t go without them.”
“Well,” said Jennie in a low tone, “I don’t believe you can get them in. I should think she might carry them herself.”
“Don’t,” said Patrick with a nudge of his elbow; “you’ll make her cry.”
It was a puzzling habit that Fraülein had, to weep silently at unexpected moments, and say her feelings were hurt. This was so distressing that the children were always anxious to avoid it if possible. She stood looking on now with a pleased smile, grasping her camp-stool, and understanding very little of the chatter going on round her. Fraülein was very good-natured looking, with large soft blue eyes and a quantity of frizzy fair hair.
At last the packing was done; camp-stool, sketching-books, and three small children on the top of everything. Rice would have to walk by the side of the cart. It really was a wonderfully hot day, and there was scarcely any shade; the donkey went even slower than usual, and by the time they reached Maskells the whole party was rather exhausted—Fraulein more so than anyone, and she sank at once on the ground under some beech-trees opposite the house. It was in this spot that the cart was always unpacked, the cloth laid, and dinner spread. Later on in the day a fire was made here to boil the kettle for tea, but until then the children were free to roam about and do as they liked.