"Well, tell me what, for instance. There is something, I suppose. The walls are not bare?"
"Not quite. There are apt to be mats, to sit and lie on;—and pots for cooking, and baskets and a chest perhaps, and a great mosquito curtain."
"Are you going to live in a house like that, Eleanor?"
Mrs. Powle's face expressed distress. Eleanor laughed and declared she did not know.
"It will have some chairs for her to sit upon," said Mrs. Caxton; "and I shall send some china cups, that she may not have to drink out of a cocoa-nut shell."
"But I should like that very well," said Eleanor; "and I certainly think a Fijian wooden dish, spread with green leaves, is as nice a vessel for food as can be."
Mrs. Powle rose up and began to arrange her shawl, with an air which said, "I do not understand it!"
"Mamma, what are you about?"
"Eleanor, you make me very uncomfortable."
"Do I? Why should I, mamma?"