In the meantime, Mr. Parker was having his own set of troubles. Three of the tent stakes were missing. Twice he put up the umbrella framework, only to have the entire structure collapse upon his head.
“Penny, come here and help me!” he called. “I’ve had about enough of this!”
Penny ran to her father’s rescue, pulling the canvas from his head and shoulders. By working together they finally got the tent set up. Another half hour was required to put up the cots and make them.
“Well, that job is done,” Mr. Parker sighed, collapsing on one of the beds. “Such a life!”
“Dad, I hate to bother you,” Penny apologized, “but I can’t start the stove. Do you mind looking at it?”
Grumbling a bit, Mr. Parker went to tinker with the stove. Three-quarters of an hour slipped away before he succeeded in coaxing a bright flame.
“All this work has given me a big appetite for supper,” he announced. “What are we having, Penny?”
“Steaks.”
“Sounds fine.”
“I forgot the salt though,” Penny confessed, slapping the meat into a frying pan.