“Only a very small one,” she said meekly, and went and brought it.
“That’ll do,” he said.
“But I’ll never get all my things in that,” declared Ess in dismay.
“Yes, you will,” he said. “Now go and pack. Give me a small cushion or pillow first, though. That’s a luxury, and outside the strict necessaries, but we’ll allow it this time.”
She brought the cushion, and he spread the oilcloth on the floor and the blanket over it. The pillow went in the centre, and he commenced to roll the bundle. Ess went back to her own room at his command.
“Hand mirror, brush, comb, toothbrush,” he called, and presently “Yes” she answered. “Put the basket middle of the room and sling the things in as I call,” he instructed. “Towel and soap.” “Yes.” “Two or three pair of stockings, and a change of under things.” He heard her movements suddenly cease, and the sound of a smothered laugh. Then “Yes” again, very meekly. “That’s all,” he said. “Cram them in, and I’ll strap the basket.”
She brought the basket out. “But how do I wash?” she said. “Don’t I need a basin or anything?”
“Pails in camp,” he said, promptly. “Don’t I need candles?” she asked. “Sun, moon and stars are your candles,” he said, picking up the basket and blankets. “You go to bed in the dark and get up in daylight.” “Uncle has a canvas camp bed here. Can’t I take that? Don’t I have a bed?” she said.
“Make a bed of leaves on the ground. Come along, I assure you there’s nothing else you need,” and they went out to the buggy. “Your saddle, bridle, and a pair of hobbles,” he said, flinging them under the seat. “And now we’re off. See how easy it is?”
They trotted over the Ridge, and Steve snapped his whip about the horses till they broke into a canter.