So I hope Michael the caveman is satisfied—that black beast—out there. All my plans upset, all the crockery still in straw, no curtains up, and not a picture hung. Oh, I had planned to have the cave so nice for his return, to sprinkle all the floor with fine sea sand, to hang up the skin of that big tiger that he killed, to keep away the draught, and over the driftwood fire to set a pot of rabbit stew (he always is so hungry), and then perhaps with a new necklace for myself I should have been ready. Just as we were getting in the bus to-night our Lady of Ventre came running out to ask me if she might come two hours late to-morrow. She said that an old woman in the village was dying, and was sure to be dead by the morning, and she had been asked to lay her out, there being no nieces or daughters who could do it. ’Can’t say I like the job, mum, but one can’t ’ardly refuse to perform the last horfice for the dead seeing as ’ow we’ve all got to come to it; it’s different if you know a person; if it was you now, mum, or the capting, I’d do it with pleasure.’ Ross’s guffaw nearly took the roof off. When we got back to Fernfold there were three letters from Michael, but I only liked two of them. If he gives another man a Power of Attorney to row his wife, he oughtn’t to do it himself as well. It’s not cricket. Oh, well, I read the third one through again and liked it better, because I left out all the written part and only read between the lines—my darling! *CHAPTER XVI* Another week has passed. The workpeople have gone and taken all their pots and pails. Gidger’s cottage is almost finished. It will be quite completed by to-night and we are going to sleep in it. At the moment the two chars are working in the kitchen: Brown with his leg up is unpacking china, Ross ordering every one about, Nannie and the Gidger very busy in the nursery (the Poppet giving much advice about her own department), while the only person who really matters is doing ’nothing much’ for a day or two, except cussing her male relatives in her heart. The day-nursery is rather pretty—soft green walls, so that there may be no glare to strain the precious eyes: white furniture, just big enough for tiny folk: cupboards with shelves, low enough for little hands to reach the toys and that lovely ’Masque of Flowers’ for pictures. There is a window seat with cushions, where big people can tell small ones fairy stories in the dusk. There’s a comfy chair for Nannie and a rocking-horse and doll’s house, all presents from Aunt Constance, sent ’with love.’