CHAPTER XXI
Thursday, July 25.—Sitting at breakfast we heard the joyful sound "Sail, ho!" We jumped up to look and then settled down to writing. The men were out at their potato patches, and when they got back decided not to try for the ship as she was too far east to be caught. Our hope of a ship is always raised after a north-west wind which appears to blow ships this way. But on many days this month had one come it would have been impossible for the boats to have gone out, as it was either too rough at sea or there was too much surf.
Friday, July 26.—Mrs. Repetto, who came in to ask me to show her how to knit my kind of heel, told me the men could have caught the ship yesterday if they had liked, but they "dallied about." If Repetto had been here I think perhaps a boat would have gone as I know he is anxious to get his letters off. In answer to a request from him Mr. B—— of Drogheda, Ireland, has sent a beautiful pig-skin satchel to be used as post-bag when going off to ships. It is a real boon, as the letters so often got wet.
A great number of illustrated papers was brought by the Greyhound, which we enjoy looking through when too lazy for harder work. There were also some Fortnightly and National Reviews, and the Nineteenth Century, which Graham enjoys and sometimes reads aloud to me. He gets through more general reading than at home. Wet days are spent by him in opening cases and arranging the contents in the loft in most precise order. Woe betide us if we disarrange anything.
The entertainment we had was so much enjoyed the people would like to have it again, so perhaps at the next full moon we may repeat it.
Friday, August 2.—We had the entertainment last night. At a rehearsal in the morning we made several improvements in the pieces. The "Hen and her Chickens" was charming. The tiniest children sat on the floor grouped round the clucking hen as her chicks, and when she got up to go they followed, giving delightful little jumps until they disappeared with her into the next room. Then another piece, "Thomas and his Donkey," was improved—at least so the audience thought—by the donkey suddenly kicking up his heels and throwing his rider, who lay sprawling on the floor. I think the people, especially the men, find the winter evenings long. Most of them go to bed betimes. Whenever we look out of our passage window long before we are thinking of going to bed ourselves, no lights are to be seen in the houses, unless it is Repetto's, who reads in bed when he can get oil.
Poor little Jock is having such bad fits. We sometimes think we shall have to put an end to him.
The thermometer registered 44-1/2 degrees last night. There was a cry of "Sail, ho!" raised this morning, but the supposed ship turned out to be a cloud. We have learnt to take these cries calmly for they often end in nothing.
Saturday, August 10.—On Wednesday we gave the school a holiday. It came about in this way. Will Swain arranged with Bill Green that they two should give Graham a treat. He was to try his hand at driving a team of oxen. The treat was quite a success. They fetched two loads of wood which had been cut and left on the hillside about four miles off. The load has to be built up very carefully. For the foundation a strong spreading branch is chosen with the trunk end turning up like the runners of a sleigh. This branch is called the "rider," and on it are piled the other branches to the height of about four feet. The load is bound together by cords, and the oxen attached to it by a strong chain. Graham managed to drive his load without upsetting it and with only the loss of one piece. The load was a present to us, and was, we believe, a delicate return for money lent the two men to buy spades with when the Greyhound was here. Graham had said they could work it out by digging the wheat-field, but as "all hands" did that, probably the two thought they would like to give the wood.
Today William brought in a bird which he called a "Starchy," but which is just like our old friend the garden thrush. He says there are lots of them on the hill. They have no song.