“Heah’s some mos’ empty,” said he, the moment Martha appeared in the store-room.
“They’re all right! Even if there is a little oatmeal and rice in some of ’em—so much the better, cause we must try to fish ’em out of the water when the Yanks throw the cargo in,” said Martha, carrying the three boxes to the window, and dropping them out on the grass where George stood waiting.
Besides the three boxes used for cereal, Jim found a real tea-caddy, but it was more than half full, so Martha emptied the contents on a newspaper spread on the floor behind the door.
Also they found a soap box and the contents was emptied on top of the tea for want of a better place. A cardboard drum that had held dried fruit or other viands, stood on the shelf with some stuff in it—lumpy and pulverized together.
“What is this?” asked Martha, taking up a lump.
“Ah donno, but maybe yo’ kin tell ef yo’ tas’ it,” suggested Jim.
So Martha carefully touched the lump to her tongue, but the moment it came in contact with the pink tip, the washing-soda burned and smarted horribly.
Martha dropped it and held her mouth frantically, while Jim implored her not to make a noise or they would be “ketched.” But the venture was enough for Martha, who hurried out of the room to seek a drink of cooling water.
Jim, thinking it a shame to leave a nice drum there after such a painful experience, emptied the soda upon the soap and orange pekoe tea and dropped the drum from the window. He then climbed up and dropped himself out upon the grass, where George waited.
“Where’s Martha?” queried Jack.