"It will do for dessert later in the evening. We don't have to eat everything all at once, you know." Margery was in a flurry of importance, over the idea of making the custard. Tommy, despite her apparent indifference, was eagerly waiting for the custard. It was one of her favorite dishes.
Buster broke the eggs in an agate dish, then added the milk, a cupful for each person. The eggs, of course, had first been beaten up and the sugar added. Harriet, with her skirt pinned up, was frying bacon and potatoes until the smoke in the cabin was so thick as to drive out those who were not actively engaged in getting the supper. Harriet and Margery stuck to their posts, Tommy Thompson watched the operations from the deck, now and then coughing to remind them that she was there.
"There, I think everything is ready," announced Buster. "How soon are you going to finish with the oil stove?"
"Please do not wait for me. I shall not be done here for some little time. The coffee isn't ground yet. What part of the stove do you require for your custard?"
"The oven, of course. Don't you know how to make custard?"
"Oh, yes." Harriet turned her face from her companion, apparently to avoid the smoke, but in reality that Margery might not observe her laughter. "Help yourself to the oven."
Margery groped about underneath the oil stove, burned her fingers and bumped her forehead against the edge of the stove.
"If you please, don't knock the top of the stove off. We are some distance from another stove," reminded Harriet.
"I—I can't find the oven," wailed Margery.
"Don't you know why?"