‘Oh, we have had breakfast long ago,’ said Victoria, now beginning real talk, ‘and they have all gone to work; but I stayed at home to look after you.’
‘What kind of work?’
‘Well, work in the plantations—how do you suppose we get our yams?’
‘What else?’
‘Listen’—and I heard a muffled sound of beating from the back of the house. I had heard it before, but it had passed unnoticed—‘Can’t you guess what they are doing there?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘They are making cloth, tappa cloth. See, here is some of it;’ and she showed me the snowy counterpane of my bed. ‘We make it from the bark of a tree. I’ll show you, by-and-by. We like English cloth better, though, when we can get it. I always dress in English cloth.’
‘So you have done no work to-day, Victoria, all because of me.’
‘Oh yes, I have. I have cooked your breakfast, and caught it too. Do you like fish?’
‘What fish?’