Jenny smiled, and allowed him to bring her once again to the settee and to begin once more to describe their future life.
“It’s cold there, Jenny. Not warm at all. Snow and ice. And you won’t see anybody for weeks and months—anybody but just me. And we shall have to do everything for ourselves—clothes, house-building, food catching and killing... Trim your own hats... Like the Swiss Family Robinson; only you won’t have everything growing outside as they did. And we’ll go out in canoes if we go on the water at all; and see Indians—‘Heap big man bacca’ sort of business—and perhaps hear wolves (I’m not quite sure of that); and go about on sledges... with dogs to draw them. But with all that we shall be free. There won’t be any bureaucrats to tyrannise over us; no fashions, no regulations, no homemade laws to make dull boys of us. Just fancy, Jenny: nobody to make us do anything. Nothing but our own needs and wishes...”
“I expect we shall tyrannise—as you call it—over each other,” Jenny said shrewdly. “It seems to me that’s what people do.”
“Little wretch!” cried Keith. “To interrupt with such a thing. When I was just getting busy and eloquent. I tell you: there’ll be inconveniences. You’ll find you’ll want somebody besides me to talk to and look after. But then perhaps you’ll have somebody!”
“Who?” asked Jenny, unsuspiciously. “Not Pa, I’m sure.”
Keith held her away from him, and looked into her eyes. Then he crushed her against him, laughing. It took Jenny quite a minute to understand what he meant.
“Very dull, aren’t you!” cried Keith. “Can’t see beyond the end of your nose.”
“I shouldn’t think it was hardly the sort of place for babies,” Jenny sighed. “From what you say.”
v
Keith roared with laughter, so that the Minerva seemed to shake in sympathy with his mirth.