The savoury smell of the frying eggs and bacon reached Bindle inside the tent, inspiring him with feelings of benevolence and good-will.
"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said contritely, "but I didn't 'ear you."
"You heard well enough what I said," was Mrs. Bindle's rejoinder, as she broke a fourth egg into the pan.
"The kitchen's come," he said pleasantly.
"Oh, has it?" Mrs. Bindle did not raise her eyes from the frying-pan she was holding over the scout-fire.
For a minute or two Bindle preserved silence, wondering what topic he possessed that would soothe her obvious irritation.
"They say the big tent's down at the station," he remarked, repeating a rumour he had heard when engaged in examining the field-kitchen.
Mrs. Bindle vouchsafed no reply.
"Did you sleep well, Lizzie?" he enquired.
"Sleep!" she repeated scornfully. "How was I to sleep on rough straw like that. I ache all over."