"I was just thinking," he said, "that no stranger who dropped in upon us would dream that we were not at home here. There is Dan tidying up the garden; Chloe is quite at her ease in the kitchen, and you and I might pass very well for brother and sister."
"I don't see any likeness between us—not a bit."
"No, there is no personal likeness; but I meant in age and that sort of thing. I think, altogether, we have a very homelike look."
"The illusion would be very quickly dispelled if your stranger put his head inside the door. Did any one ever see such a bare place?"
"Anyhow, it's very comfortable," Vincent said, "though I grant that it would be improved by a little furniture."
"By a great deal of furniture, you mean. Why, there isn't a chair in the house, nor a carpet, nor a curtain, nor a cupboard, nor a bed; in fact all there is is the rough dresser in the kitchen and that plank table, and your bedstead. I really think that's all. Chloe has the kettle and two cooking-pots, and there is the dish and six plates we bought."
"You bought, you mean," Vincent interrupted.
"We bought, sir; this is a joint expedition. Then, there is the basin and a pail. I think that is the total of our belongings."
"Well, you see, it shows how little one can be quite comfortable upon," Vincent said. "I wonder how long it will be before the doctor gives me leave to move. It is all very well for me who am accustomed to campaigning, but it is awfully rough for you."
"Don't you put your impatience down to my account, at any rate until you begin to hear me grumble. It is just your own restlessness, when you are pretending you are comfortable."