Our Little Canadian Cousin

by Elizabeth Roberts MacDonald

"The river talks in its sleep," he said, leaning over her with shining eyes.

"What does it say, Jackie-boy?" Mrs. Merrithew asked.

"I don't know the words,—yet," he answered, "but I will some day."

"Yes, I believe you will, dear," his mother said, with a smile and a sigh, for she firmly believed that her boy, with his vivid imagination and quick apprehension, had the life of a poet before him.

Just then a shout from the boys' tent proclaimed that the twins were awake; then Mr. Merrithew's cheery voice was heard, and soon the camp was alive with greetings and laughter. Under Mr. Merrithew's direction (and with his active assistance), a cooking-place was soon made, and a bright fire inviting to preparations for breakfast. The device for cooking consisted of two strong upright sticks with forked tops, and a heavy horizontal pole resting upon them. On this pole two pothooks were fastened, from which hung the pot and kettle, and the fire was kindled under it. Then a little circle of flat stones was made for the frying-pan, the pot and kettle were filled with fresh water, and Susan's outfit was complete.

Pending the erection of a "camp wash-stand," and the choice of a safe and suitable bathing-place, faces and hands were washed in the river amid much laughter, and with careful balancing on stones in the shallows. The toilets were barely completed when three toots on the horn announced that breakfast was ready. A long table and benches were among the furniture which Doctor Grey and Mr. Merrithew had planned to make; until their construction, they were glad to group themselves, picnic-fashion, around a table-cloth on the ground. The way that breakfast was disposed of showed that the true camp appetites had begun already to assert themselves. Porridge and molasses, beans, bacon and eggs, and great piles of brown bread and butter, vanished like smoke. Jackie astonished the party (and alarmed his mother) by quietly disposing of a cup of strong coffee, passed to him by mistake, and handing it back to be refilled with the comment that it was "much more satisfyinger than milk."

After breakfast they all set to work with enthusiasm to make camp more comfortable. Susan washed dishes and arranged the provision tent with housewifely zeal; Mrs. Merrithew and Mrs. Grey brought the blankets out, and spread them on the grass to air, drove shingle-nails far up on the tent-poles to hold watches, pin-cushions, and innumerable small but necessary articles, and superintended the stretching of a rope from one pole to another, about a foot from the ridge-pole. This last arrangement proved most useful, all the garments not in use being hung over it, so that the chaperons' tent, at least, was kept in good order. The gentlemen busied themselves in building the promised table and seats. Mr. Andrews had told them to make use of anything they wanted on his island, so the twins had hunted about till they discovered a pile of boards near one of the barns. These served admirably for the necessary furniture, and after that was finished several cosy seats were made, by degrees, in favourite nooks along the bank. The morning passed with almost incredible swiftness, and even the youngest (and hungriest) of the campers could scarcely believe their ears when the horn blew for dinner.

In the afternoon some, bearing cushions and shawls, chose shady spots for a read and a doze; some set off in the canoes for a lazy paddle; and others organized themselves into an exploring party to visit the deserted house. Marjorie and Dora, Miss Covert, and Will Graham formed the latter group. The stone house was a curious structure, with an air of solidity about it even in its neglected and failing condition. It had been built many years before by an Englishman, who did not know the river's possibilities in the way of spring freshets. When he found that he had built his house too near the shore, and that April brought water, ice, and debris of many sorts knocking at his doors and battering in his windows, he promptly, if ruefully, abandoned it to time and the elements. It might, long ago, have been so arranged and protected as to make it a very pleasant summer residence, but, instead, it was now used only for a week or two in haying-time, when the haymakers slept and ate in its basement,—for this quaint little house had a basement, with a kitchen, dining-room, and storeroom. Our visitors, having gained entrance to the hall by a very ruinous flight of steps and a battered door, descended to the basement first, admired the fireplace in the kitchen, and looked rather askance at the deep pile of straw in the dining-room, where the haymakers had slept. There was a rough table in one corner of the room, and on it some tin cups and plates and a piece of very dry bread. The haying on the island was about half-done; there was a short intermission in the work now, but it was to begin again very soon.

They found nothing else of especial interest in the basement, so went to the hall above. Here were two good-sized rooms, one on each side of the hall. Each had a fine, deep fireplace, and in one were two old-fashioned wooden armchairs and a long table. The windows—two in each room—were narrow and high, and had small panes and deep window-seats.