"To-night," says she, "if my calculations be right, should be a new moon. And I am glad, for I do love the moon."
"Aye, but how should you judge this?" says I, wondering.
"Because I have kept a record, Martin. A stroke for each day and a cross for every Sunday."
"Excellent!" quoth I. "Then you will know how long we have lived here?"
"Two months and five days, Martin."
"So long a time?" says I amazed.
"Hath it seemed so very long?" she questioned.
"No indeed!" says I. "No, and there's the marvel!"
"'Tis no marvel, Martin, you have been too full of business to heed time. Let us reckon up what we have achieved thus far. First of all a three-legged stool for me—"
"Hairpins!" says I.