Chapter Thirty.
In the Lock.
The tea-making was attended with the usual excitements, and the kettle-boiling with the inevitable misadventures. A scouting party was organised to discover a sheltered spot in which to lay the fire, but although until this minute the day had appeared absolutely calm and tranquil, all the winds of heaven seemed to unite in blowing upon that unfortunate fire from the moment that the match was applied!
When at long last a feeble flame was established, the sticks promptly collapsed and precipitated the kettle to the ground; when rebuilt more solidly, it died out for want of a draught; and when at last, and at last, and at very long last, the smoke was seen issuing from the kettle-spout, lo, the water was smoked, and unfit to drink! So decided the Captain, at least, but while he drank milk with the little girls, Pixie emptied the tea-pot with undiminished enjoyment.
“It gives it a flavour,” she said. “I like to taste what I’m drinking.”
It was not a trifle like smoked tea which would mar Mamzelle Paddy’s enjoyment when on pleasure bent!
The Captain’s preparations had been on so lavish a scale that there was quite a supply of good things left when the meal was finished, and by a kindly thought these were packed together to give to the children of the lock-keeper on the way up stream.
When every odd piece of paper had been religiously collected and packed in the hamper with the cups and saucers, the little girls were lifted into the boat, Pixie pulled the rudder-ropes over her shoulders, and the Captain pushed the boat from the shore and jumped lightly into his seat.
They were off again, rowing homewards and passing once more all the fascinating landmarks which they had noticed on the way down. The picnickers on the banks were fastening hampers and preparing to depart; on the green lawns by the waterside servants were flitting to and fro carrying trays into the house. Inda was beginning to yawn and long for bed. She leant against Pixie, the weight of the small head becoming ever heavier and heavier, but roused up again as the boat entered the “box,” as she persisted in calling a lock. She wanted to hand out the parcel of good things without a moment’s delay, but the Captain told her to wait until the water had lifted the boat nearer to the bank.
It seemed an extraordinary thing that, whereas, in passing through the lock before they had gone down, down, down, they should now rise higher with every moment that passed. The children had a hundred questions to ask, while the Captain stood up and kept the boat in position with a boat-hook. He explained the mystery as simply as possible, and also why he was at such pains to keep at a safe distance from the walls.