Blushing deeply, Rose withdrew herself from his now yielding clasp, and, to cover her girlish embarrassment, took the new bucket and put it in his hands, requesting him to go to the spring, and bring her fresh water to fill the tea-kettle, and adding—
“You shall see what nice biscuits and what nice tea I can make.”
Mark took the pail and went out, and disappeared down the path.
Rosalie, observing the floor littered, looked around for the broom to sweep it up; and then laughed to find that, with all their getting, they had got no broom.
Mark came in with the pail of water, set it down, and said he would go and get some brush to kindle a fire. And while he was gone, Rosalie put water in a basin to wash her hands preparatory to making the biscuits; and then she discovered that they had forgotten soap also. And while she stood in dismay, wondering what else might have been omitted, Mark re-entered with a pile of brush on his shoulders, “like Christian with his bundle of sin,” he said. He threw it down upon the hearth, and began to look around, and then he broke into a gay, prolonged laugh.
“What’s the matter, Mark? Are you daring to laugh at me, with my sleeves and skirt tucked up?”
“O, Rosalie, we have heads, child! we have heads—and so have cabbages, when they have come to maturity.”
“Well, don’t laugh yours off your shoulders, but tell me what you’re laughing at!”
“We have not brought a match nor a candle.”
“Oh! no! You don’t say so?”