"It is odd that one can be interested in such a story," said Flora. "And yet I have been interested."
"For that very reason, I suppose," said Mr. Murray. "There is something breathing out, both from the story and the day, which we all know we want,—unless we have got it already."
"But, Mr. Murray, one cannot live in the world and be quiet," said Flora.
"There is a promise or two, however, to that effect. 'When He giveth quietness, then who can make trouble?' And the Master said to His disciples, 'Peace I leave with you.' 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger.'"
"I wish I knew what it means!" said Flora, furtively getting rid of a tear which had somehow found its way into her eye.
"I'll tell you what," cried Fenton, "if you don't come, the water will all boil away. Don't you mean ever to have luncheon? I don't know what you are thinking of, with your old stories!"
This brought the party to their feet. And now, some went at unpacking and arranging the things which had been brought along in bag and basket; Flora lit the spirit lamp and set the coffee a-going; while Meredith and Fenton put the potatoes in the ashes and took care of the process of roasting the oysters. It was not so warm to-day that the fire was disagreeable, which was lucky, as the oysters demanded a good bed of coals; the potatoes likewise. Finally, Meredith set about making a friar's omelet. When all was ready and the tea drawn, they sat round the fire on the grass, and made a most miscellaneous and most enjoyable meal.
"Coffee! how good the coffee is!" said Meredith.
"And did you ever see such good roast oysters?" cried Maggie.
"They ought to be good," Fenton growled; "they cost a precious sight of work to get 'em up here."