"If you don't feel comfortable you can change with us, you know," says Regy, as he and Hugh seat themselves on the wide window-sill. "The rest of you must dispose yourselves on the dresser and the hamper--Ted's the lightest, so he'd better have the hamper."
Then follows an impromptu sort of picnic, which gives complete satisfaction to all, especially as to the fare; for kind Mrs. Trent has not forgotten that boys and girls, especially when working hard, are apt to get hungry, and rightly thinking that it would probably be a long time before anyone had leisure to think about cooking, she has included many useful things, with an eye to future needs.
"O, I say!" cries Alick, suddenly laying down his knife and fork; "isn't there anything to drink?"
"Pump, out there," briefly explains Molly, waving a jam tart in the direction of the garden.
"Oh, yes! so there is. Let's go and get a drink all round; I'm awfully thirsty too." And Dick scrambles down from the dresser to the floor, and then pauses, "We've nothing in the world to drink out of!" he says ruefully. This proves only too true, for though Mrs. Trent and her cook have had the forethought to pack a few small plates and knives and forks, anything in the shape of a drinking vessel has been utterly forgotten.
"Wouldn't a flower-pot do?" mildly inquires Ted, doubtful as to how his brilliant suggestion will be received.
"Why, you muff!" replies Alick scornfully, "what about the hole? But try it yourself by all means if you like, unless you'd rather have a sieve."
But here Honor, who has been roaming about in hopes of finding something to answer their purpose, rushes into their midst triumphantly flourishing a tin can above her head.
"Look!" she cries. "I found this on the copper; it is what old Mrs. Evans brought her beer in, I expect, and I suppose she forgot to take it back when she went to her dinner. Will it do, do you think?"
But to Honor's dismay a chorus of groans greets her.
"_Honor!_" exclaims Molly indignantly, "a nasty beery thing like that! And most likely the old woman has been drinking out of it!"
"Well, and if she has; there's plenty of hot water. We can wash it, I suppose! At any rate I can't think of anything else," concludes poor Honor, looking rather sat upon, "but the inkstand in our room upstairs. Will _that_ do?"