The Associate Hermits

by Frank R. Stockton

It was about two o’clock that afternoon, and Mrs. Archibald, under her tree, her basket of stockings all darned and her novel at its culminating point of interest, was the only visible occupant of Camp Rob, when Corona Raybold came walking towards her, an obvious purpose in her handsome face, which was somewhat flushed by exercise.

“I do not think,” she said, as soon as she was near enough for Mrs. Archibald to hear her, “that the true purpose and intention of our plan is properly understood by all of the party. I think, after some explanation, everything will go well, but I have been endeavoring for the last half-hour to find Mrs. Perkenpine, and have utterly failed. I am very hungry, but I can discover nothing to eat. All our stores appear to be absolutely raw, or in some intermediate state of crudity. I intend to order some provisions in cans or boxes which will be at all times available, but I have not done so yet, and so I have come over to speak to you about the matter. Did your guides prepare your dinner as usual?”

“Oh yes,” said Mrs. Archibald. “A hermit life seems to make no difference with Mr. Matlack. We become associates at meal-times, but, as you see, we have separated again.”

“I must instil into Mrs. Perkenpine’s mind,” said Corona, “that, in order thoroughly to act out her own nature, she must cook and do other things of a domestic character. Of course she will do those things in her own way; that is to be expected; but she must do them. It is impossible to imagine a woman of her class whose soul is not set more or less upon domestic affairs. I will instance Mr. Matlack. His nature belongs to the woods and the out-of-door world, and that nature prompts him to cook what he shoots.”

Mrs. Archibald laughed. “I think his nature is a very good one,” she said, “and I will go with you to find him and see if he cannot give you a luncheon, if not a dinner.”

“Thank you very much,” said Corona; “but indeed I do not wish to trouble you. I will go to him myself. You are very kind, but it is not in the least degree necessary for you to accompany me. A cup of tea and some little trifle is all I shall ask him for.”

For a moment Mrs. Archibald hesitated, and then she said, “As we are hermits, I suppose we must not keep together any more than we can help, and so I will let you go alone.”

Corona found Phil Matlack by his kitchen tent, busily engaged in rubbing the inside of a large kettle. He was not in a good humor. The departure of Martin had thrown all the work of his camp upon him, and now the appearance of a person from another camp requesting to be fed aroused him to absolute anger. He did not scold, for it would have been impossible to look at that beautiful and imperturbable face and say hard words to it. He did not refuse the cup of tea or the bread-and-butter for which he was asked, and he even added some cold meat; but he indignantly made up his mind that he would stand no more of this nonsense, and that if necessary he would go to Sadler and throw up the job. He had not engaged to cook for three camps.