Page:Frank Stockton - Rudder Grange.djvu/103

Rh "Here, under this oak, is the place for the tent," said Euphemia, her face flushed, her eyes sparkling, and her dress a little torn by getting over the fence in a hurry. "What do we want with your Adirondacks and your Dismal Swamps. This is the spot for us!"

"Euphemia," said I, in as composed a tone as possible, although my whole frame was trembling with emotion—"Euphemia, I am glad I married you!"

Had it not been Sunday we would have set up our tent that night. Early the next morning old John's fifteen-dollar horse drew from our house a waggon-load of camp fixtures. There was some difficulty in getting the waggon over the field, and there were fences to be taken down to allow of its passage; but we overcame all obstacles, and reached the camp-ground without breaking so much as a tea-cup. Old John helped me pitch the tent, and as neither of us understood the matter very well it took us some time. It was, indeed, nearly noon when old John left us, and it may have been possible that he delayed matters a little so as to be able to charge for a full half-day for himself and horse. Euphemia got into the waggon to ride back with him, that she might give some parting injunctions to Pomona.

"I'll have to stop a bit to put up the fences, ma'am," said old John, "or Misther Ball might make a fuss."

"Is this Mr. Ball's land?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, sir; it's Mr. Ball's land."

"I wonder how he'll like our camping on it?" I said thoughtfully.

"I'd 'a' thought, sir, you'd 'a' asked him that