Although ready and willing to volunteer information, the other campers saw no reason to restrain their surprise and disapproval of Mrs. Bindle's toilette. The other women were in their work-a-day attire, as befitted housewives who had dinners to cook under severe handicaps, and they resented what they regarded as a newcomer's "swank."
That first day of the holiday, for which she had fought with such grim determination, lived long in Mrs. Bindle's memory. Dinner she contrived with the aid of the frying-pan and the saucepan she had brought with her. It would have taken something more than the absence of a field-kitchen to prevent Mrs. Bindle from doing what she regarded as her domestic duty.
The full sense of her tragedy, however, manifested itself when, dinner over, she had washed-up.
There was nothing to do until tea-time. Bindle had disappeared with the man with the stubbly chin and two others in search of the nearest public-house, a mile away. Patrol-leader Smithers was at Sunday-school, whilst her fellow-campers showed no inclination to make advances.
She walked for a little among the other tents; but her general demeanour was not conducive to hasty friendships. She therefore returned to the tent and wrote to Mr. Hearty, telling him, on the authority of Patrol-leader Smithers, that Mr. Timkins had a large quantity of excellent strawberries for sale.
Mr. Hearty was a greengrocer who had one eye on business and the other eye on God, in case of accidents. On hearing that the Bindles were going into the country, his mind had instinctively flown to fruit and vegetables. He had asked Mrs. Bindle to "drop him a postcard" (Mr. Hearty was always economical in the matter of postages, even other people's postages) if she heard of anything that she thought might interest him.
Mrs. Bindle told in glowing terms the story of Farmer Timkins' hoards of strawberries, giving the impression that he was at a loss what to do with them.
Three o'clock brought the bishop and a short open-air service, which was attended by the entire band of campers, with the exception of Bindle and his companions.
The bishop was full of apologies for the past and hope for the future. In place of a sermon he gave an almost jovial address; but there were no answering smiles. Everyone was wondering what they could do until it was time for bed, the more imaginative going still further and speculating what they were to do when they got there.
"My friends," the bishop concluded, "we must not allow trifling mishaps to discourage us. We are here to enjoy ourselves."