“Gee! It’s grand riding. I haven’t been in a car since Thanksgiving,” Mimi avowed. “Hadn’t ridden in one then since September. Can you imagine?”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. But about the beans. Mimi, you know that if they are not good the whole party will be spoiled and I should hate that.”
“You go ahead and talk to the man, Miss Bassett. Leave the beans to us. They’ll be good, I can promise.”
The way Mimi declared herself Miss Bassett knew she could depend on her. Dumping the girls and their “field artillery” as they called it, she went on her own errand.
Mimi was in her glory. She had on her boots and old breeches and three sweaters and was giving Betsy orders right and left. She was working hard herself. While Betsy gathered wood and searched for flat stones, Mimi dug the hole. She selected an open place where there would be no danger of damaging a tree or starting a fire. After a half hour of digging in the frozen ground she had finished a hole the size of a card table. It was deeper than the ten gallon kettle the beans were soaking in and it was deeper in the center. While she rested, Betsy lined the center of the hole with flat stones. On top of these Betsy built a fire.
“Stack it loosely so it can get plenty of air to burn. Light it on the windward side.” Mimi had to let Betsy know how much she knew about fire lore. She hoped, however, she did not act like Jean and wear a show-off, I-have-been-to-camp-before manner.
“Why the windy side?”
“The wind will blow the fire under and it will catch all through. There. See? Now put on plenty of big wood so that we will have lots of good live coals when we get back. We’ll ask the man to watch it while we are gone.”
“Isn’t that some fire?”
“Perfect. I just love fire.” She meant this kind you could warm by and cook over; not the destructive, terrifying kind she was to know soon. Mimi stretched out her hands to it. “I never see it without repeating to myself, ‘The Ode to Fire.’ I was saying it as you kneeled to light this one.”