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“I saw a keg of soft-soap in the shed. How would that go with the pickles?” suggested Bob, who felt equal to the biggest and acidest cucumber ever grown.

“Mamma knew an old lady who actually did eat soft-soap and cream for her complexion,” put in Alice, whose own fresh face looked as if she had tried the same distasteful remedy with success.

The boys laughed, and Mark, who felt that hospitality required him to do something for his guests, said briskly,–

“Let us go on a foraging expedition while the lamp holds out to burn, for the old lantern is almost gone and then we are done for. Come on, Bob; your sharp nose will smell out food if there is any.”

“Don’t set the house afire, and bring more wood when you come, for we must have light of some kind in this poky place,” called Gwen, with a sigh, wishing every one of them were safely at home and abed.

A great tramping of boots, slamming of doors, and shouting of voices followed the departure of the boys, as well as a crash, a howl, and then a roar of laughter, as Bob fell down the cellar stairs, having opened the door in search of food and poked his nose in too far. Presently they came back, very dusty, cobwebby, and cold, but triumphantly bearing a droll collection of trophies. Mark had a piece of board and the lantern, Tony a big wooden box and a tin pail, Bob fondly embraced a pickle jar and a tumbler of jelly which had been forgotten on a high shelf in the storeroom.

“Meal, pickles, jam, and boards. What a mess, and what are we to do with it all?” cried the girls, much amused at the result of the expedition.

“Can any of you make a hoe cake?” demanded Mark.

“No, indeed! I can make caramels and cocoanut-cakes,” said Ruth, proudly.

“I can make good toast and tea,” added Alice.

“I can’t cook anything,” confessed Gwen, who was unusually accomplished in French, German, and music.

“Girls aren’t worth much in the hour of need. Take hold, Tony, you are the chap for me.” And Mark disrespectfully turned his back on the young ladies, who could only sit and watch the lads work.

“He can’t do it without water,” whispered Ruth.

“Or salt,” answered Alice.

“Or a pan to bake it in,” added Gwen; and then all smiled at the dilemma they foresaw.

But Tony was equal to the occasion, and calmly went on with his task, while Mark arranged the fire and Bob opened the pickles. First the new cook filled the pail with snow till enough was melted to wet the meal; this mixture was stirred with a pine stick till thick enough, then spread on the board and set up before the bed of coals to brown.

“It never will bake in the world.” “He can’t turn it, so it won’t be done on both sides.” “Won’t be fit to eat any way!” And with these dark hints the girls consoled themselves for their want of skill.

But the cake did bake a nice brown, Tony did turn it neatly with his jack-knife and the stick, and when it was done cut it into bits, added jelly, and passed it round on an old atlas; and every one said,–

“It really does taste good!”

Two more were baked, and eaten with pickles for a change, then all were satisfied, and after a vote of thanks to Tony they began to think of sleep.

“Pat has gone home and told them we are all right, and mamma knows we can manage here well enough for one night, so don’t worry, Gwen, but take a nap, and I’ll lie on the rug and see to the fire.”

Mark’s happy-go-lucky way of taking things did not convince his sister; but as she could do nothing, she submitted and made her friends as comfortable as she could.

All had plenty of wraps, so the girls nestled into the three large chairs, Bob and Tony rolled themselves up in the robe, with their feet to the fire, and were soon snoring like weary hunters. Mark pillowed his head on a log, and was sound asleep in ten minutes in spite of his promise to be sentinel.