Meanwhile the rain continued, with not the slightest sign of abating.
"You best bring your motor-sickle under shelter and stay the night right here," suggested the man of the house when the shadows deepened and still the rain went on.
"I'm sure that's very good of you, sir, but I'm afraid I'd better not trouble you any more."
"No trouble at all; we're delighted to have you; we can soon make a bed up with a few chairs and some of these blankets."
I was only too pleased to avail myself of their hospitality and agreed.
At supper I had a chance of studying the various members of the family. Apart from the man and his wife, there were two boys, and quite a few more people rolled in afterwards from a source unknown to me. Supper consisted of stewed beans, with plenty of bread and water, and more beans.
That night I slept on four chairs in a row near the door. The two boys were elsewhere in the gloomy darkness within. All through the night I waged war upon mosquitoes and slapped myself vigorously for many hours until the guerrilla warfare grew so tiring that sleep overcame its anxiety. The mosquitoes then nibbled my face to their hearts' content—if they have hearts, which is doubtful.
In the morning breakfast consisted of stewed beans with plenty of bread and water, and more beans.
By lunch-time it was still raining, but slower. I stayed to lunch. It consisted of stewed beans, with plenty of bread and water, and lots more beans.
In the afternoon the sky cleared, the sun opened his eyes with a snap and began his work of drying up the roads. Throughout the day I had employed my time with giving Lizzie an overhaul. I had the cylinders off, examined the bearings, and tightened things generally. Meanwhile I discovered that my friends were building a house on an adjoining field. They were doing the work alone, with the help of a few friends, who no doubt accounted for the other partakers of stewed beans. A pile of timber lay in one corner of the field and the foundations had already been laid and the uprights erected.