It was difficult to sit down soberly to boiled mutton
and batter pudding after these exhilarating adventures,
but it had to be done, and after dinner the girls
had to “sit quietly with their needles”
for an hour; but at last tea-time came, and evening
followed, and the whole family except Baby embarked
upon the first voyage in The Belle of Canada.
It was delightful to float about on the moonlit water
and listen to Mamma’s lovely voice. She
sang a Canadian boat-song, in honour of the little
hostess in far-away Canada:
“From the lone sheiling of the misty
island
Mountains divide us, and the waste of
seas—
Yet still the blood is strong, the heart
is Highland,
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
“Fair these broad meads—these
hoary woods are grand;
But we are exiles from our father’s
land.”
Silence fell upon them all after that. Mamma’s
white hands dropped from the guitar and slipped under
Papa’s arm; Prudence thought in her dreamy way
of the little Canadian; Mollie remembered the American
soldiers and their song; Hugh’s mind was full
to the brim of boats and rafts and ships.
“Look here!” cried Jerry suddenly; “we’re
a good slice of our jolly old Empire to-night—Great
Britain, Australia, India, sailing in a Canadian boat—there’s
another song we ought to sing——”
he jumped to his feet as he spoke, making the boat
rock in the silvery water. “Come on!”
he sang:
“Rule, Britannia! Britannia
rule the waves!”
* * * *
*
“Oh, Jerry! Why did you go and do that?”
Mollie called out, as she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
“It isn’t nearly time to wake up yet!”
“Indeed it is, you little lazy bones,”
Aunt Mary said, with a laugh. “Goodness,
child! You are beginning to look quite rosy and
sunburnt! Spraining your ankle seems to suit
you. I think I’ll sprain mine and see if
I can raise a complexion like that. It’s
as good as a visit to the seaside.”
“Ah!” said Mollie.
The Gold-diggers or The Miracle
“DEAR MOLL,
“This is exactly what happened yesterday.
Young Outram says that it is very important for us
to keep notes, in case the Thingummy Society should
want to know all about it one of these days.
“To begin with I was late for breakfast, so
I grabbed your letter and stuck it in my pocket, along
with a roll, and bolted. Everything as usual
till about 2.30. Bibs was trying to knock some
maths into our heads, which I call pretty hard luck
on a chap who has crawled to the top of his left wing
while shots were dropping round like hail. He
looked fairly fed-up. It was tremendously hot
and my head ached, and Young Outram had a rag-nail
on his first finger which he said was causing him
frightful agony, when I suddenly remembered the roll
and found your letter. So we ate the roll and
