"Some of them would be mad if they knew I'd roused them out ten minutes early," Jim remarked. "A breakfast like this, however, is too good to spoil. Now if you'll let me have the coffee, I'll take the truck along."
He came back with the empty plates in about a quarter of an hour, for Canadian choppers do not loiter over meals, and Carrie, sitting on the hearth log, looked up anxiously.
"Well?" she asked, "were the boys satisfied?"
"They were. I don't think I could have stood for it if they were not. One allowed he hoped Probyn would keep the cook we lost. The others were enthusiastic."
Carrie blushed. "I'm glad. I was tired when things went wrong last night."
"The trouble is, you can't go on. It's one thing to superintend, and cook a meal now and then, but quite another to cook all the time."
"But this is what I want to do."
"It can't be allowed," Jim declared.
Carrie put down the forks she was cleaning. "You look very firm and solemn, but you can't bluff me. Are you and Jake very rich?"
"You know we're not rich."