None of the young ones were anxious to give up their new governesses, but they, on the contrary, hailed the return of fine weather with great joy.
CHAPTER XX.
I fancied we all looked quite mouldy, when we emerged from our dusky dark caverns. But the weather was so delicious, so cool and refreshing; everything was so green and beautiful that we soon revived. I thought it necessary to take an inventory of all our possessions, that we might husband them as much as possible. We also attended greatly to our gardens, and the few remaining potatoes that we had were planted that we might not be totally bereft of such a useful vegetable. I never saw anything like the growth of the English vegetables we had brought with us. They were almost too luxuriant, approaching to rankness.
Day after day passed by and we were still alone. No ardently-desired vessel hove in sight, nothing met our longing gaze as we daily scanned the horizon. Fearing the inevitable lowness of spirits that such constant hoping and longing, followed by as constant disappointment, must end in, I, one evening, said that I should not at all like being cooped up in those caverns again the next rainy season.
Schillie.—"Now if you mention one word about building one of your old huts, you shall be whipt."
Mother.—"Oh no, no! I have had quite enough of the huts. I have not the smallest intention of building such another flimsy affair."
Schillie.—"Then if you are going to talk common sense, I am quite willing to listen. Those caverns certainly put one rather in mind of one's grave, and I cannot get the nasty dead smell of them out of my nose. Now then, June, be speedy, and let us hear your intentions. Shall we build a boat, and betake ourselves off or shall we live al fresco, despite Madame's fears, or what? Come, speak up."
Mother.—"I don't fancy building a boat at all, much less trusting myself in it; but, agreeing with you in your horror of huts, I think we must now make a good substantial house."